


Grimm Fairytale

by NicoleBloom89



Series: A Grimm Tale [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: -Ish, AU, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cooking, Dream Sex, F/M, False Memories, Fanart, Fluff, Harm, Headaches & Migraines, Historical References, Identity Issues, Investigations, Kidnapping, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Self-Doubt, Sexual Tension, What-If, king arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:16:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6179860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleBloom89/pseuds/NicoleBloom89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Nick disappeared Renard felt the ground open up underneath him. He spends every waking moment searching for him, without any luck. Then, there is a new murderer in town, leaving  bodies with there head missing. And to do it all worse - there is the matter with his brother, speaking in riddles that leaves Renard fearing the worse. </p><p>This is a story about a missing grimm, a greedy prince and a desperate race against time. Will Renard be able to find Nick before it's too late, and more importantly, will Nick still be the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter Zero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murderbynuns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderbynuns/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give my thanks to everyone who gave me their support and courage, especially murderbynuns who really pushed me to give this story a chance. So, murderbynuns, as a thank you I decided to add this as a little gift for you! I hope you´ll like it. 
> 
> Much love, Nicole.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renard left the desk and walked over to the windows, starring with a heavy heart at his sleeping city. The rain didn’t help his mood much. It only amplified his clouded mind, full of thoughts about his lost detective: thinking, wondering if Nick was alright and if he would ever see the younger man again. Renard sighed heavily.  
> "Nick, where are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, then! First chapter is up and I´m really nervous! I hope you´ll like it and enjoy it as much as I did!  
> Once again, many thanks to my beta tolieawake - amazing as always! 
> 
> This is a AU. My interpretation of what could have happened in season 3.
> 
> Feel free to comment, love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Much love Nicole!

**Chapter One**

It was late, ridiculously so. He was tired and to make matters worse – the whisky was gone. It had been emptied a while back. He was slowly but effectively killing himself, and he was well aware of it. His behavior was destructive at best, and he should be grateful if no one pointed it out until the end of the month, but he didn’t care. He should, but he didn’t.

He felt like shit and was tired of keeping everything hidden. So what if he was a bit gloomy? So what if he had emptied a whole bottle of expensive whisky in less than three months? He had every right to do so, and god help anyone who ever dared to say otherwise.

He was elbow deep in papers, searching through  mountains of files and handwritten notes – everything he could get his hands on over the last couple of month – but there were  _nothing_. He was almost at his wits end. Something had to happen, soon, or he might as well put a bullet through his head.

There was a soft nock on his door.

”Come in,” he said, surprised that anyone was still around at this god-forsaken hour.

”Captain?” The man by the door was none other than Hank Griffin. Hank, and Wu – just like Renard – had turned into complete workaholics over the last three months.

”Hank, what can I do for you?” He asked, closing the file he had been staring at for the last hour and a half.

”Well, I was just about to head home and was wondering if you might have heard anything?”

Renard shook his head gravely. He could hear Hank sigh heavily by the door.

”I apologize, Hank. I wish I had anything, anything at all, but...”

”It´s alright, Captain. You´re doing all that you can, if not more.”

”Apparently it isn’t good enough!” Renard snapped. He knew his harsh words were uncalled for and that Hank had done nothing to deserve his anger, but dammit! He was beyond frustrated. He was a Captain, a _prince_ for fuck sake! And yet he feared he might come up emptied handed on this one – the one that might be the most important case in his whole fucking life! He couldn’t let that happen! He just... It just couldn’t end like this; after all his effort he couldn’t – he _refused_ to let this case end up just as empty as the bottle of whisky on his desk.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing gentle. ”I´m... I´m sorry, Hank. I was out of line.”

”Don’t think about it. I understand. I´m worried, too. It’s been almost three month after all.”

”Still... I feel like a jackass.”

Hank chuckled. ”Go home, Captain. Get some rest.”

Renard agreed. Sleep sounded like a great plan.

Hank was about to leave when he abruptly came to a halt. ”Oh, and Captain.” Renard looked up and meet his eyes. ”We´ll find him.” Renard let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

He didn’t know way but he sudden found himself smiling.

”Yeah. We will. If not, I´m afraid Juliette might kill me.”

”I doubt she is the only one,” Hank said and left with a small smile on his face.

It wasn’t news to Renard that Nick was well loved, but it always manages to surprise him every time. Nick was a good detective. No, a _great_ one, one of his best – so it shouldn’t surprise him that Nick was a great man outside of the precinct as well.

He should have known. He had, after all, watched over his little Grimm from day one, but still... The magnitude of Nick´s charisma and personality was astonishing. Hell, the baby Grimm had even manage to befriended with a blutbad – reformed or not – by the end of his first week!

Speaking of the man, Renard could still remember the awful day that Monroe, along with Juliette and Rosalee, had all but burst into his office with the news about Nick´s disappearing. He had pretty much screamed at the poor blutbad the whole time. But, to be fair, he had been overwhelmed with concern for his missing detective.

The memories of that day were still fresh in his mind...

_"Why the hell didn’t you come to me sooner?" Renard yelled furiously. The news about Nick being missing was not something he wanted to hear at, what, 07:15? Not to mention before he even have had his first morning coffee. "Do you have any idea how precious time is in an investigation of a missing person? Not to mention when it comes to Nick!"_

_"W-we didn’t think too much about it at the time... Because, well, he is a Grimm, and a cop, and he can take care of himself, ah - most of the time..."_

_"Well, apparently, this is not one of those moments!" Renard felt the urge to rip the other man´s head off!_

” _This is not the time to argue!” Juliette barked. ”We have to find him! Shouting at each other wont achieve that.” She was right. Fighting wouldn’t help them find Nick._

_Exhausted, Renard fell back into his chair, collecting himself. He had to find Nick, no matter what – before something really bad happened to him..._

That had been eleven weeks ago.

Renard sighed. He had lost his temper completely. He would have apologized for almost giving the poor Blutbad a heart attack, but at the time Renard couldn’t have cared less. His Grimm was missing, under his rule, under his protection! Which is way he has spent every moment at his disposal trying to locate his missing detective – using all his power, all his contacts, pulling in every favor he could think of, only to end up with _nothing_.

Even Nick´s so-called grimm-network and collection of friends hadn’t been able to spread any light on the situation. Renard admitted that it had somewhat baffled him how complex, and brilliant, it had turned out to be. Not to mention how much of an impact Nick had had on the rare collection of wesens.

It had touched Renards heart. Sure, Renard had learnt first hand how - likeable - Nick was, but still, it amazed him to know, to see, just how much of an effort the wesens community had put into finding Nick - a grimm! It had all been so surreal, yet so typical Nick.

Ever since Nick´s disappearance, he had more or less moved into his office, working his ass off, all in to try and find Nick. But after eleven weeks... To find any leads to Nick´s whereabouts, or Nick himself, after such a long time...

Renard left the desk and walked over to the windows, starring with a heavy heart at his sleeping city. The rain didn’t help his mood much. It only amplified his clouded mind, full of thoughts about his lost detective: thinking, wondering if Nick was alright and if he would ever see the younger man again. Renard sighed heavily.

"Nick, where are you?"


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His heart stopped pumping for a moment as pure terror washed over him. He saw a small mirror above the sink. Hastily he left the bed and rushed over, staring desperately at the reflection. A man. A man in his late twenties, perhaps early thirties; dark hair and pale skin, striking blue eyes – making him quite handsome; but still... the man in the mirror was a complete stranger to him.  
> He didn’t know who that man was.  
> He didn’t know who he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter is up! Hope you´ll enjoy it. 
> 
> Much love Nicole

**Chapter Two**

Green.

The color green was all he could see: it was everywhere. And pain, so much pain. It was like if he was under the agony of the worst hang-over on the planet! Or at least what he thought it would feel like. Had he even experienced a hangover before? He wondered. Of course he had! He was a grown man for fuck's sake! But then again... He couldn’t remember if he had. In fact, he---

His heart stopped pumping for a moment as pure terror washed over him. He saw a small mirror above the sink. Hastily he left the bed and rushed over, staring desperately at the reflection. A man. A man in his late twenties, perhaps early thirties; dark hair and pale skin, striking blue eyes – making him quite handsome; but still... the man in the mirror was a complete stranger to him.

He didn’t know who that man was.

He didn’t know who _he_ was.

”Who the hell am I? What happened to me? Why can’t I remember anything?” Fear pulsed through his body like acid and he felt himself start to lose the little self-control he had left. He needed to know. He needed –!

"I see you're finally awake, it gladdens me."

Abruptly he turned around, finding himself face to face with another complete stranger, yet he looked somewhat familiar: brown curly hair and dressed in a very expensive looking suit.

"And up and running, too."

“Who the hell are you?” He asked. Probably not the friendliest tone to use, but he couldn't care less. He was scared and whoever this snob was and – for reasons he couldn't fully explain, yet – his instincts told him the man was no friend. And that perhaps he should step carefully with him.

"You don’t remember me?"

"If I can’t remember who I am, then why the fuck would I remember you? Now, tell me who the hell you are before I kick your sorry ass out of here." Could he do it? The man was a bit bigger than himself but something told him – instinct again? - that he would have no difficulties in taking the other man down.

The stranger sighed heavily.

"Fair enough," the stranger said as he walked over to the single chair by the bed.

Had he been visiting him? But why, and for what reason?

"I'm  your boss," the man finally said. "You work for me and have done so for quite some time." Well, that would explain why he didn’t fancy the guy, no one likes his boss, right?

"I'm also a friend."

He couldn’t help but to roll his eyes in mock humour. As if he could be friends with his boss. It wad laughable!

"If you're my friend.” He said, “Care to tell me where the hell I am, and why?"

"You're at the hospital, and have been for a few days."

"The hospital?" That would explain the room’s tasteless attempt of interior design. "Why, what happened?"

"There were a fight, between you and a very dangerous man. We have been after him for years without much luck. He is smart and very hard to catch, but then there were a development. Our man had taken an interest in you. He even contacted you, called you on your phone." An image burst to life, of himself in a car - his car? - answering his phone.

> We need to meet< The voice had said.

>Name it. < Had been his reply.

Had that been the contact? Between him and whoever they were after? Possibly.

"I was against it," the man went on. "I didn’t want to put you in danger if I could avoid it, but it was also our only chance to catch him..." The man looked very much ashamed. "If I had known it would end up with you in a hospital bed, I would never have allowed it... And for that I'm sorry."

He felt like he should say something, anything to ease the other man's guilt, but he didn’t.

"You meet up with him," the man continued. "Alone. He specifically demanded it. I didn’t like it, but had no choice but to submit. It was supposed to be a simple meeting, a talk, convince him to turn himself in. Rather naive of me, really..."

"Was... Was it late?"

"Pardon?"

"When the meeting took place... Was it late, like at night? Also, was it out in a forest of some sort? Nearby a rundown cottage?" He had a vague memory of a meeting like that taking place, and not too long ago, either. The stranger smiled.

"You remember; that’s a good sign."

"I remember something." The man seemed like he was about to comment but decided against it; instead he went on with the more important matter at hand.

"You met up with him in a forest, just like you remember. You tried to convince him to turn himself in, to bring him to justice. He refused. You tried to stop him, and that's when all hell broke loose. He went in for an attack. You put up one hell of a fight, but in the end he got away. You were supposed to contact us, and when you didn’t, we knew something was wrong. We found you unconscious so we brought you here." He said, making a gesture to the room.

That made--- somewhat--- sense.

"I really am glad you are awake."

He flashed the man - his boss? - A quick smile.

"Huh... You speak of justice, to turn himself in. So I do what? Catch the bad ones?" Bad ones? That was a rather unusual choice of words. Yet, it was the first thing that had sprung to his mind.

"You could say that. And whoever I want you to catch."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You work for me, and therefore you do whatever I order you to."

He didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t like the idea of being ordered around like he was a trained pet to some rich man snob. To be controlled. But what choice did he have? He had no memories of who he was or what his life looked like before he woke up here. And this man, no matter what his instincts told him, was the only man he knew. And furthermore, who was willing to take him in under his wing, to look after him. What more could he ask for in such a critical situation?

"I should probably let you get some more sleep," the man said. "But don’t worry, I wont be too far away."

"Wait!" He burst out. "One more thing before you go." The stranger watched him patiently. "M-my name...What's my name?"

"Your name is Thomas, Thomas Schirach."

Thomas Schirach? The name did sound familiar.

"And yours? What's your name?" The man smiled at him.

"Renard, Eric Renard, but you will call me sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right then. Any thoughts? Would love to hear them!
> 
> Also i would like to wish you all a wonderful incoming week!


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In one swift motion Thomas snatched one of the many knives from the dinnertable and charged. It all happened in a blur, and yet Thomas felt strangely in control the whole time. Taken by suprise by the sudden asult, Thomas quickly disarmed the man by forcefully shoving him to the floor, as he drew the blade in one quick motion; forcing the cold steel against the man´s throat hard enough to draw blood. 
> 
> The whole ordeal took less then a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I´m so sorry for the extreme late update! New job and studies has completely cockbloked my writing. Also, I wasn´t feeling satisfied with the chapter so I probably rewritten it about seven times. Anyway... Enough of excuses. Enjoy.
> 
> And as always. Feel free to comment, love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Much love Nicole!

**Chapter Three**

Today was the day he was finally being released from the hospital. His body felt sore and itchy after being in bed for too long. He was eager to get going, to leave this godforsaken place. He hate hospitals, it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. Too many... losses? Frustrated, he shakes his head. He knew his memory was in there somewhere, he just needed to find it.  
"Don't worry my friend." He turned around to see Eric; holding, by the looks of it, a black leather jacket. "Your memories will return to you. I'm sure of it." Thomas nodded, what else was there for him to say? Besides, his focus was still on the jacket in his boss hand. The garment was not something he could picture the older man wearing – it was simple far too ridiculous to even imagine. So why did -?  
"Here," Eric said, as if he knew what was on his mind. "This is yours." Ah, that explained it. "One of my many servants managed to save it after you were hospitalized."  
"Thank you, sir." Carefully, almost fearful, Thomas took the jacket. The leather felt good in his hands, familiar somehow. And yet... _un_ familiar.  
"What's wrong?"  
Thomas sighed heavily as he did the zipper on the jacket.  
"It's just... I mean... I couldn't even remember my own name, or who I am. This jacket kind of reminded me of it. I can _feel_ that it's mine but I can't _remember_ it. To be honest, this whole memory loss scares the shit out of me."  
Eric sighed as he put his hand on the other man's shoulder, squeezing gently in hope to show empathy and support. He had gone through much trouble to lay claim on the grimm and there was still a long way to go before he had full control over the younger man, but there was no way he'd give him up now. If they wanted to claim the grimm as their own, they were going to go through hell and back to get him – especially his bastard of a brother! 

The mere thought about his brother – how to put it? Dry situation, made him want to laugh hard and out loud. Eric had no doubt that the loss of his precious grimm had forced Sean to his knees in despair. It really was a shame he wasn't able to witness his brother's downfall first hand. But then again...

  
Eric gave the grimm a reassuring smile. There was more important matters to attend to - like teaching his unknowing little grimm the rules.  
_His_ rules.  
"I know it's hard, but you can’t lose yourself in fear. You must stand strong and fight back. Fight the man who did this to you."  
Thomas agreed. Whoever did this to him was going to pay. Hard!  
Eric could see the fire in the man's sharp gaze. He couldn't wait to let the grimm loose on his brother.

Oh, the fun he could have with the unknowing little grimm.

"Ready to leave?"  
"Yes, sir. More then ever."  
Eric smiled. So much fun indeed.  
"Good. There is a car waiting for us outside. As soon as we have signed some papers we're ready to go."  
"Where are we going, sir?"  
"Home."

It took less than an hour drive before they reached their destination, the place Eric called home. And what a home it was! Slowly, Thomas left the car. Staring, with his mouth wide open, no doubt, at the huge castle spreading out in front of him. Yes. A fucking castle! Who even lives in those anymore?  
"You like it?" Dumbfounded, Thomas turned his gaze to his boss.  
"Wait... You're saying that this... this castle is _yours_?"  
"Yes. It has belonged to my family for generations."  
"I can't believe it. My boss lives in a freaking castle!" He heard Eric laugh beside him. "W-what?"  
"This is exactly how you reacted the first time I brought you here." Well, no surprise there. Besides, to him, this, right now, _was_ his first time ever being here. "Come on, let's get you inside," Eric said, but stopped when he noticed the grimm wasn’t following him.  
"Thomas, is everything alright?"  
"I... I live here too? With you?" Somehow the whole concept of living in a castle seemed surreal to Thomas. Far more absurd then seeing his boss in a leather jacket.  
"Yes. As I told you at the hospital, you work for me."  
"I get that, but I had no idea I lived with you as well. It feels a bit... I don't know, strange? Living with your boss." Eric sighed. He didn't like the fact that the grimm still possessed enough free will to question him and his authority. _Oh, well... not for long, anyway_. Eric thought spitefully.  
"I'll give you the full explanation during dinner. You must be hungry. After all, hospital food can't be that good, right?" Thomas laughed. No, it sure wasn’t. "Shall we?" Thomas was still very much doubtful, but the promise of some answers and a hot meal overruled everything else – including his urge to run the other way.

Well behind closed doors Thomas once again found himself speechless. If he thought the castle looked impressive on the outside there wasn't any words to describe the inside. The paintings, the grand entrée, the golden staircase with marble floors: not to mention the huge chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Everything was in top-shape, flawless, and very much breathtaking.  
"Welcome home, sir."  
Thomas saw a woman with long brown hair and pale skin greeting his boss: a servant, no doubt. "Dinner is ready for you, and your friend in a minute, sir."  
"Good." He said and handed over his jacket to the woman who immediately took it without question. "I also want you to show Thomas to his room."  
"Of course, sir."  
Eric gave her a quick nod.  
"This way, sir." She said. Waiting patiently for Thomas to follow. And he did, with some hesitation. After all, he had no idea who she was or what he was about to step into. His gut told him to be careful, but careful of what, exactly? This woman? This place? Or was it Eric himself? Fuck! He couldn’t be sure if the one he trusted for the moment was even someone he should trust to begin with. Everything was too confusing. All he really had to go on was his instinct - which wasn’t very helpful to him at the moment - and his memories, his totally useless memories. Aside from the small little flashbacks that came out of nowhere and completely random too, his memories were blank. And then there was the nature of his relationship with Eric. The man claimed to be his boss, which makes him an employee, but employed to do what? Was he a servant too? A small fire of rage sparked in his chest. Somehow the very idea didn’t sit well with him.  
"Sir?" Thomas stared right into the woman’s green eyes.  
"Sorry, I was lost in thoughts."  
"Don’t worry, sir, " she said and throw him a quick smile. "We´re here, sir. Your room."  
"Oh, thank you." Thomas cursed himself for his lack of ability to stay focused. Not only had he been completely rude to the poor woman, but now, thanks to his mind running away from him, he had no idea how to get here or return to the entrance.  
"What´s your name?" Thomas asked. Hopefully there was still a chance to regain some of his manners. His need for directions had to come later on.  
"Um... my name, sir?"  
"Yes. It makes it a lot easier to thank someone by knowing the person´s name."  
"My apologies, sir, but I am simple a servant, here to satisfy you and help you with everything you might need. There is no reason for you to know my name, sir, or thanking me for that matter."  
Thomas frowned. He couldn't let her leave without thanking her.  
"You said your purpose is to do as I please, right?"  
"Y-yes, sir," she said hesitantly.  
"Then tell me your name," he pleaded. The poor woman looked so lost as of what to do, so much so that Thomas almost felt bad for her. She was struggling, no question about it, and Thomas was about to give up and simple call her miss Brown (because of her hair), when she finally answered.  
"My name is Kailee, sir."  
"Kailee." Thomas rolled the name on his tongue. It was a rather unusual name, but it somehow suited her – or so he thought. "Thank you, Kailee, for showing me to my room. It was most helpful of you." The woman´s eyes sparkled with joy. It was clear that appreciation was not something this woman – or more a girl, really, now that he have had the chance to get a closer look – was familiar with.  
"It was nothing, sir. Is there anything else I can assist you with, anything at all?" Thomas gave her a reassuring smile.  
"No, I'm fine. Thank you Kailee. You can leave now."  
"As you wish sir. Oh! Before I leave, there are some clothes for you on the bed. I hope you´ll find it to your liking."  
"Kailee, I´ve spent the last couple of days wearing a dress made out of paper; I'm sure I´ll find anything else quite suitable." It earned him a smile. Something Thomas doubted she did very often. Anyway, it looked good on her.  
"Dinner is ready for you once you´ve changed, sir." And with that she was off, leaving Thomas to his own. The solitude felt odd. Every since he had woken up at the hospital he had barely been without supervision more then a few minutes at a time. It was odd, indeed, but very much welcoming. So much had happened during the last couple of days, causing him quite the headache. Hopefully everything would make sense after his dinner with Eric.  
Thomas sighed heavily as he changed into the clothes Kailee had laid out for him: a pair of jeans and a navy-blue shirt which made the color of his eyes pop. It felt good to be in regular clothes again. It made him feel far more human then he had since he´d woken up in the hospital. Still, he felt out of place. It was all so surreal! He was living with his boss – his stinking rich boss at that. And the cherry on the cake? He had no memories to either confirm or deny any of what Eric had told him so far, or would tell him. His instinct told him to stay away from the man, to run as far away as he possibly could. But where would he go? He had no family, no friends, no girlfriend - boyfriend? He was stuck! But then again, if he were to be stuck somewhere, he was glad it was in a castle with food and a functional shower.  
"Well then, time for some answers," he said and left the room, hoping to find his way back where he came from. Completely unaware of the dark web that had been spun around him.  
Downstairs dinner, true to Kailee´s words, was ready for them. It smelled wonderful. And Thomas realized then just how utterly starved he was. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had a decent meal for days. And man, did the food look delicious.  
"Sir?" Thomas turned around and saw Kailee smiling at him. "It looks good on you."  
"Thank you Kailee. You did a good job, the clothes fits me like a glove."  
"I am glad you like it, sir."  
"By the way, have you seen Eric?"  
"E-Eric, sir? You must mean the Lord, yes?"  
"Oh, yes, I am sorry. I haven’t gotten use to the titles yet, and that goes for you addressing me as sir, too."  
"I can imagine, sir, but I am sure you´ll get use to it soon enough."  
"I guess you´re right, thank you." The woman blushed softly. It was rather cute. "Please tell me, Kailee, where is the Lord? I thought we were to dine together."  
"The Lord had some business to attend to. I´m sure he will be joining you shortly. Would you like me to go and fetch him for you, sir?"  
"Oh, no, that won´t be necessary. I am sure he´ll be here as soon as he can." She nodded and showed him to the table. He sat down and waited for Eric – the Lord, to join him. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to start without the host, right? He just hoped it wouldn’t take too long. He was starving!

"And you´re sure that this will work?" Eric asked as he studied the green pill in his hand. "This will suppress his memories?"  
"Yes, my lord. The drug is combined with small doses of my slime. Every time he takes it his memories will be altered, just as you required."  
"So, a couple of these and the sweet little grimm will be eating right out of my hand, is that correct?"  
"Without question it." Eric smiled. The grimm would soon be his and his alone and there would be nothing his bastard of a brother could do about it.  
"Excellent."  
"But remember my Lord; he has to take at least one of these each day, if not his memories will return to him with time."  
"How long does he need to take them?"  
"He need to take it for at least five months, after that the alteration of his memories will be permanent, and will be yours to command forever."  
Eric´s smile grew as he played with the pill in his hand.  
"Wonderful."  
A soft knock on the door interrupted them. Eric sighed irritated. "Yes?" The door opened and a woman, one of his many servants, entered carefully.  
"Pardon me, my Lord, but dinner is ready and, sir Thomas is waiting for you."  
"I see. I´ll be there shortly, but leave us for now."  
"Yes, my Lord." The door closed.  
"Well, I can't let my sweet little grimm wait for me too long, now can I? Not when I´ve finally got my hands on him."  
"Yes, but remember my Lord, without the medication you´ll be without your loyal pet." Eric nodded. He would make sure the grimm took the pills. After all, the grimm was now his, and only his, and anyone who was caught in between would soon enough found themselves dead...

Thomas felt his hunger grow stronger for each passing second. How long had he been waiting? It felt like hours. Perhaps he should call Kailee back and ask her to find Eric for him after all, but in the end he vote against it. It would be rude, right? He was a guest here, not the owner; he had no right to demand anything. So he stayed quiet and waited for Eric to show up. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait for much longer.  
"Ah, Thomas, my apologies for making you wait." Thomas found himself standing up with the man´s appearance, almost bowing towards him as well. Thomas felt that the act of submission irked him to his very core.  
"N-no needs to apologize. I understand there is plenty–" Thomas felt his blood turn cold in his veins. The stranger behind his boss was dangerous.  
He wasn't sure of exactly how he knew that, he just did.  
All logical reasons bowed to the feral instinct that howled at him to attack. So Thomas did.  
In one swift motion Thomas snatched one of the many knives from the dinner table and charged. It all happened in a blur, and yet Thomas felt strangely in control the whole time. Taken by surprise by the sudden assault, Thomas quickly disarmed the man by forcefully shoving him to the floor, as he drew the blade in one quick motion; forcing the cold steel against the man´s throat hard enough to draw blood.  
The whole ordeal took less then a minute.  
For a short moment fear flashed in the stranger´s eyes, but quickly changed into something like pure joy. It should have been far more disturbing to Thomas. But his instinct told him not to trust this man, whoever he was, simply because he was too dangerous! But there was more to it. He had seen this man before, met him, and it had left him with a nasty aftertaste.  
"Who are you?" Thomas asked darkly. "Why do I have images of you in my head?" The man underneath him didn’t reply. Which only amplified Thomas rage. "Answer me!" The knife dangerously close to cut through the thin layer of skin. **Perhaps you should just kill him** , a dark growl inside of him whispered. **Kill him before he kills you**. Thomas had to agree it made sense. It would be wise to remove the danger. It wouldn't be too hard, either. The man was incapable of protecting himself at this point. **Look at him** , the beast whispered. **He is practically begging you to cut his throat**. _He is, isn't he?_ Thomas thought. **He is** , the beast confirmed. **So kill him. Do it. Do it now**. Spurred on by the growling beast with in himself Thomas tightened the grip around the knife. One quick cut and–  
"Thomas, dear, do you think you could avoid slitting his throat? Blood is such a hassle to remove once it has soaked into the carpet." Thomas froze. Lowering the knife was the last thing he wanted to do. **That´s right. Don´t listen to him**.  
"Thomas, do as I say." Thomas felt himself hesitating. This man was dangerous, so why let him live? **You don´t!** The beast snarled. **You cut his head off!** But Eric was asking him to spare him. Why?  
"Thomas, that´s an order!" With a grunt of frustration Thomas let go of the man. "Good. And I must say I´m very impressed with your technique. Very beautiful, too." Thomas didn’t reply. He didn’t feel too pleased with himself – the man on the floor was still breathing after all.  
Still breathing---  
The reality of what he had done – _almost done_ – hit him like a freaking sledgehammer; the impact of his actions and the pure sickness of it all almost had him throwing up, even when there was noting for him to throw up to begin with. And further more, it scared him shitless! How close he had been to kill a man, and with no hesitation or regrets to show for it either. Is this what he is? A killer? Disgusted by his actions, Thomas quickly let go of the knife. No, this couldn’t be who he was! But still... still, he couldn’t deny how perfect the knife had fit in his hand, or the way he had moved – so fast and without even breaking a sweat! It wasn’t normal.  
_He_ wasn’t normal.  
"Don’t worry, my friend, there is nothing wrong with you," Eric said. "In fact, you´re acting just like the way you´re born to do. It’s in your blood."  
Thomas felt himself drowning in questions. He had no idea what Eric was talking about.  
"I know nothing make sense to you at the moment, but I assure you that everything will be clear to you in time." Thomas wasn’t convinced though. "You´ve got questions, and I´ll answer all of them. Starting with an introduction," he said and pointing at the stranger behind him. "His name is the Barron, and he works for me. Not as long as you have been, but has already proved himself to come in handy. In fact, he´s actually the reason why you´re standing here today."  
"What? He... He saved me?"  
"In a way, yes." Thomas was too baffled to notice the wicked smile shared between the two men. "And for that I´m most grateful. Which is why my original plan was to offer him a chair around the table this evening, but considering current events, perhaps a dinner for just the two of us might be a better option."  
Thomas felt rather guilty about what he´d done, but didn’t try too hard to change the man´s mind. He didn’t trust the Barron the slightest. In fact, he actually found himself extremely relieved the moment the front door shut, indicating the Barron´s exit.  
"Now," Eric said as he returned to the dining room. "I believe we have a nice dinner to enjoy and some questions that needs to be answered." Thomas agreed. He was sick and tired of being left in the dark.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soft fragrance of spices and orange. It was a lovely scent and for some unknown reason it made him think about a man with dark hair and the strangest feeling of... something close to affection? Was it someone important to him? A lover perhaps? But if so, then why had this potential lover not shown up to visit him at the hospital? An ex-lover then? Frustrated, Thomas threw the towel in the hamper. The signs of a headache was approaching, and fast. Thankfully he had a guardian angel in the disguise of a small green pill. The medication his Master had provide him almost the same day of his arrival had truly been a life-saver. It taste like shit, but it was better then walking around with a pounding headache all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update, again! 
> 
> Please, feel free to comment, love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Much love Nicole!

**Chapter Four**

The blade felt good in his hand; light, yet comfortably heavy. It surprised him how at home he felt with the weapon, how quickly he had fallen in love with it, and how quickly he had become one with it. The blade had been a gift from his Master. Thomas had been hesitant at first, not sure how to react to the sudden gift, but Thomas had to admit that the blade had had his attention the moment he had laid eyes on it. When his Master explained his motivation behind the exchange, how the sword was merely a tool for Thomas to use to protect not only himself, but his Master as well, Thomas had graciously accepted the gift. And what a gift it was! The blade was sharp, and well made. While Thomas didn't claim to be an expert on the subject, even his untrained eye could see the high quality of the steel that had been used to forge the blade. Even he could see the significant amount of hours, and the knowledge that had been put into use to make this exotic creation. And the handle was exquisite too; all dressed in beautiful black leather with a red star embroidered at the center of it. As a whole the sword was simply breathtaking, and it would take many more away. He had spent every free hour he had to evolve and polish his skills, not only as a grim but as a swordsman as well. He wanted to show his gratitude. How much the gift had meant to him and the generosity his Master has shown him. He wanted to give something back, and if that something was his own life, so that his Master would live, then so be it. Besides, who was he without his Master? He was only a servant, a very deadly one, something everyone who tried to hurt his Master would find out. With a quick step he lunged forward, twitching his right hand to the left and stroke. The strike was precise, effective, and highly fatal. Thomas watched the head of the practice dummy fall to the floor with a satisfying 'thump'.

”I´m not too sure if the punishment fits the crime, or what do you say?” The amusement was evident and Thomas couldn’t quite hide his own mirroring his Master´s as he turn around to face the other man.

”Well, I don’t know. I didn’t really ask what crime he had committed, Master.”

”Well, it’s probably for the best. Saves an awful lot of time.”

Thomas nodded in agreement.

”You enjoy your gift I see.”

”Oh, yes, very much. It is a lovely sword. Thank you again, Master.”

”As I said before; its not only a gift, it's a way for you to protect yourself, and me, of course.”

”Of course, Master. Which is way I train as hard as I do. I need to be able to protect you, no matter what. Your life and safety means everything to me.”

”I´m very glad to hear that, considering it's your purpose to protect me, after all.” Thomas didn’t need to answer his Master this time; he knew it was his job. There was no reason to confirm or deny it. ”And I see you have become quite... handy with it, too,” he mused as he walked over to the cut off head on the floor. “Which is a good thing, considering the plans I have for you, and this other, very particular, sword I'm looking for.” Thomas felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he dismissed this instinct regarding his Master immediately, instead focusing on the praise and compliments he was given.

”Well, thank you, Master.” Thomas would never admit it out loud, but he secretly loved it when his Master praised him. To have confirmation that he was doing something right, and that he was in fact pleasing his Master. Which Thomas wanted, not only to please him, but to be good to him, to be the best he could be, for him. Unfortunately, he might never master his sword to the best of his abilities in his current environment.

”What´s wrong?”

”N-nothing, Master. I could never ask for anything more then what you have already given me.”

”Obviously there is something.” Thomas still hesitated. ”Thomas, tell me. That´s an order.”

”It's just... I want to be the best, because you deserve the best, Master. Unfortunately, I'll only be as good as the hand that is teaching me, and that teacher,” he said and pointed to the headless dummy, ”won't be good enough to make me the best.”

”Hm... Yes. You´re right. Your development is quite limited without a living opponent. I'll see what I can do.”

Thomas released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Glad his master wasn’t mad or disappointed with him. ”Thank you, Master.” Then something occurred to him. ”Um, Master. Might there be any particular reason as to why you're here?”

“Yes. I fear I have some serious matters to discuss with you.”

“Of course, Master. Is it urgent. or do I have time for a quick shower and a change of clothes?”

“You may go and refresh yourself. We shall have this conversation in the study. I'll inform the maids to have a fresh hot pot of tea ready for us when you join me. Oh, and Thomas.” The Grimm stopped by the door, turning his attention back to his Master. “I don't have to point out how much I hate to be kept waiting, do I?” Thomas fought back a shiver, nodded rapidly and left in a hurry.

He could still remember the event with a precise kind of clarity. One of the servants had been a few minutes late with the Master's tea, the action had not only ended with a slightly cool cup of tea but the servant had also gotten a bullet through his head for his incompetence. Thomas had felt bad for the man's death, but who was he raise his voice against his Master? He was only a servant himself. Nothing more than a piece on a chessboard, a pawn for his Master to use however he saw fit. Well, perhaps not a pawn, exactly. Thomas was not a man to brag, but then again he knew that his Master held him in a higher regard than he did the rest of the staff. Which would make him more like a rook, or perhaps a bishop, than a simple pawn. But no matter which piece he was on the chess board his role was clear – protect the King no matter what. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. It might be a tall order for most people to accept, but to Thomas it was nothing more then a matter of returning the favor to his Master. After all, who would he be without his Masters generosity? A nobody, left in a hospital bed to slowly wither and die? No. His life belonged to his master, no question about it.

Arriving to his room Thomas quickly undressed and hopped in the shower. To say that Thomas was grateful for the shower his Master had granted him was a mild understatement. The hot water streaming down his body was pure heaven for his sore muscles. It was still hard, sometimes, to get his head around the fact that this was his life. To think he was currently living in a castle, a freaking  _castle!_ Even after about a couple of months living here he still woke up surprised every single morning. He always expected to wake up to a small, yet comfortable room with soft green walls and someone besides him. It made no sense. It was like he was haunted by a ghost of someone else life. It was frustrating to say the least. With a sigh Thomas exited the shower. He was on a strict time-line after all. The image of the green room and the unspecified presence by his side had not been the only ghosts that had haunted him during his stay at the castle. There had been faces, voices and even some trace of emotions, but the images kept fading away, disappearing in a blur of shapes and shadows. He'd try to remember, but every time he was left with a severe headache and still no closer to enlightenment then the day before; so over time he had simply given up. It did him no good. He came to the conclusion that there was nothing he could do about it. Either his memories were to return to him or they would not. Besides, his past had nothing to do with his future. He could still function and do his job even without the memories of his past. Still, there were days when something slipped past the brick-wall between his past and present self; flashes of what could be memories, triggered by a word, a gesture or sometimes even by a certain smell. Those events always snuck up on him, like a sucker-punch to his gut, or more accurately – his head. Like it did at the moment. Thomas was not too sure what had triggered it this time, but the culprit had probably been the soap in the shower. The soft fragrance of spices and orange. It was a lovely scent and for some unknown reason it made him think about a man with dark hair and the strangest feeling of... something close to affection? Was it someone important to him? A lover perhaps? But if so, then why had this potential lover not shown up to visit him at the hospital? An ex-lover then? Frustrated, Thomas threw the towel in the hamper. The signs of a headache was approaching, and fast. Thankfully he had a guardian angel in the disguise of a small green pill. The medication his Master had provide him almost the same day of his arrival had truly been a life-saver. It taste like shit, but it was better then walking around with a pounding headache all day. Speaking of survival, he'd better get his ass in gear or it would be his ass in the line of fire by the end of the day. Thomas sprinted out of the room only to bump into something soft and small on his way out. Unfortunately the poor woman had no chance to regain her balance due to the sudden impact. Thomas reflexes kicked in and he soon found himself with a handful of soft flesh and sweet perfume. Upon seeing the young woman in his arms Thomas was more then relived he had manage to prevent her fall.

“Are you alright, Kailee?” The woman stayed silent, completely frozen in his arms. “Kailee?”

“I.. um... Y-yes, I am... um f-fine, thank you,” she stuttered. “I was a-about to knock a-and I...”

“I´m glad you are alright. I would have hated myself if you had been hurt because of me,” Thomas said and released his hold on her. Kailee had become something of a friend during his stay here. She was sweet and gentle, shy most of the time but surprisingly funny when she dared to be. She had lost her parents at the age of 9 in a car accident, a hit and run apparently. Thomas had felt an overwhelming urge to hunt the man down and cut his head off for all the pain he has caused Kailee, but he never took action out of respect for his Master who had not given him any such order. It would be disrespectful to act on his own and risk harm to his Master's name in the process.

“I'm on my way to the study to speak with Master. If there's anything you want to talk to me about I'm afraid we´ll have to walk and talk.”

“Oh, I-I would love t-to accompany you, s-sir.”

Thomas smiled as he held his arm out for her. “Then shall we?”

Shocked she looked from his arm to his face, his face to his arm. Thomas would have laughed had he not been concerned her eyes might pop out from its eye socks at any given moment. He was about to speak when she carefully interlocked her arm with his. Thomas couldn't help but smile over the small victory. His goal was to make her comfortable enough around him to let her hair down a bit. She was too young to have such an anxious personality . She needed to learn how to relax and enjoy herself. The walk was done in silence, close to awkward but not quite there. Thomas didn't mind. She didn't talk much anyway, and her company was more then enough. He was pleasantly surprise when she did start to speak of her own accord.

“H-how's your t-training coming along, sir? I have noticing t-that you have spent quite s-some time practicing lately.”

“I hadn't notice I have been practicing that much lately, but for you to pick up on it, it must have been far more than I thought.” Kailee was blushing deeply and the sight of her made Thomas smile wider. He was well aware of Kailee´s small crush on him and he couldn't help but to find it rather adorable. It was true that he cared for her, but it was not strong enough to be romantic love. It was more like the kind of love you would have towards a sibling, or at least he thought it would be since he lacked the _memories_ of the experience regarding love and siblings. Did he have siblings? Probably not. And even if he did it was quite clear what kind of relationship they had if he couldn't even remember them, or their lack of concern when he was at the hospital. No, as far as Thomas was concerned, that was no great loss. In fact, he was quite lucky over all. With a heavy sigh he stopped. They had arrived. Gently Thomas let go of Kailee´s arm, thanking her for accompanying him. Her blush hit like lightning and Thomas felt himself smile again.

"The h-honor is all mine, s-sir."

"Thomas. Not sir, please."

Kailee looked at him like a dear caught in head light. "I-I couldn't p-possible be calling you by your n-name, sir! That would be most disrespectful of me!" Thomas felt the urge to apologize for causing her such distress but a part of him wanted to just snap at her and order her to call him by name; it was a bizarre feeling to say the least. "A-and I..." she went on, eyes looking anywhere but at him. "I have n-nothing but respect for y-you, sir."

Any frustration Thomas might have felt seconds ago melted in an instant. "I never doubt your loyalty, Kailee. It´s just a lot more comfortable to be addressed by your given name among friends."

"F-friends?"

Thomas hoped his smile was encouraging when he nodded, and said; "Yes, but I´m afraid we have to part for now. Master is waiting for me and I fear if I make him wait much longer he might kick my shiny ass out of here."

"W-we wouldn't want t-that."

Thomas laughed softly. _She is a good girl,_ he thought. As he was about to open the door to enter but stopped himself abruptly. "Oh, and Kailee."

"Y-yes, sir?"

Thomas fought back the impulse to roll his eyes. _Baby-steps_ , _Thomas, baby-steps._ "The lord was to inform his wishes to have some tea during our conversation. I only want to remind you and your co-workers not to forget. I would hate for any harm to come to you."

"T-thank you, sir. I´m sure it wont be a problem but I´ll remind them just in case."

"That´s my girl." The girl gave him a shy smile before she practically ran off. Once she was out of sight Thomas took a deep breath, pushed the door open and entered. The dark expression on his Master's face could only mean one thing.

Someone was about to lose their head.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the lack of update. But school and life in general has been rather demanding. Also my inspiration has pointed me at another direction. Anyhow, I promise Ill do my best to keep this story alive. I will not abandon this story – or you whom takes your time to read it!
> 
> Now. Enjoy!

**Chapter Five**

The study was impressive, like everything else in the castle. The first time Thomas had sat his foot in here he had completely lost his manners. Without a second thought he had rushed over to one of the many shelves, scanning the titles with burning interest as his fingers gently caressed the old bindings.

He was ashamed to admit it but in his eagerness he had forgotten the presence of his Master. Blushing deeply for hos lack of control he had apologized profoundly. Thankfully his Master hadn't take offense by his behavior. In fact, his Master had encouraged him to use the library as he wished; and Thomas had pushed that offer to it's limit. Any spare moment he had between his training and his duties towards his Master, Thomas would be found in the library with his nose deep in a book or two. He had found a particular interest in history and oddly enough, art. Another surprise, consider his occupation, he was not too keen on the subject regarding crime – crime and forensics, sure, but crime as in fiction, not so much. He found it distasteful for some reason and it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth; as if it was all gibberish and unrealistic.

Thomas train of thought was put to a halt by someone clearing their throat. Thomas mentally kicked himself. This was his second time he had zoned out around his Master's presence in favor of the library. It was a bit embarrassing how easily he lost focus to anything else in the room except for the books, but he couldn't help it. He simple love the room too much to rely on common sense! And even if his Master had given him permission to use it Thomas wasn't a fool to put his love for the library above his duties to his Master.

"I apologize, Master. Once again I seem to loose all reason when it comes to this room."

"It's quite alright, Thomas. I should be flattered by how much you seem to love it here, but still, don't make a habit of it. I won't tolerate rudeness or disrespect, even from you."

"Of course not, Master."

"Good. Now, have a seat. I have some rather important matters to discuss with you."

Thomas nods and took a seat close to his Master. "First of all, there is some nuisance down at the laboratory. The progress is taking too long. I'm not happy with it. I want you to make, how do I say this? A _social visit_. It might motivate them a bit."

"Any particular employer you want me to use as, uhm, _motivation_?" The older man looked as if he took Thomas question in consideration, but Thomas knew his Master well enough to know it all to be an act. His Master didn't care whom, as long as it gave result.

"No," he said. "I'll leave that choice up to you."

"As you wish, Master."

"Good. Now – " There was a soft knock on the door.

 _Probably the tea_ , Thomas thought.

With a deep sigh, obviously irritated to have been interrupted while speaking, Eric barked at whomever it was on the other side of the door to enter. Thomas wasn't surprise to see Kailee. The woman was still quite young and was therefor, more often then not, selected to bring to pass the undesirable and difficult task; such as, apparently, bringing tea to their Master. Thomas didn't blame them, specially after the incident with Hopkins.

"Your tea, sir."

"Yes. Thank you, but I gave strict orders to have it served the moment of Thomas arrival. Perhaps you haven't been taught how to follow orders well enough." Thomas felt his blood run cold. "As luck has it, to me that is, such a thing can easily be fixed with a hard whip or two."

The poor girl was pale as a ghost, trembling and on the edge of tears. Thomas couldn't stand it. And before he could stop himself, be rational and level headed like usual, he had already rose from the chair and gone down on his knees, begging his Master not to.

"A-apologies, Master," he blurted out. "It's my fault. I stopped her on my way over here. I had no idea I was interfering with her chores. Had I known I would have let her pass."

 _What the hell am I doing?_ Thomas scold himself.

 **Lying to our Master for the sake of a servant! How pathetic!** Thomas sigh.

_Be quite, Beast. Kailee is not a servant. She is..._

**What?** The beast growls. **Your friend? She is no friend of yours. Can't even call you by your name! Perhaps some time with the whip would do her some good!** Taken back by the cruel nature of his thoughts Thomas shook his head. Disgusted with himself Thomas pushed forward.

"Master, if you have to punish anyone for the delay it should be me, no one else." Thomas refuse to meet his Master's eyes – _couldn't_! It would destroy him to witness the rage and dismay he would be facing if he did. Thomas was never good with disappointments, specially regarding the matter of letting someone down – his Master certainly was at the top of that very short list. Also, Thomas didn't have to look to know that this time his Master was _actually_ consider his options.

Thomas felt a shiver down his spine. His Master might look like a gentleman, but deep down, he was more like a sadist then anything else. Thomas wouldn't go so far as saying his Master was a tyrant, but he was ruling with an iron fist, there was no way around it. In fact, Thomas had a few cut and scars to prove it.

 **Perhaps you should have listen to me after all** , the Beast whispered.

 _No. I don't regret my choice. Now shut up and go back to sleep!_ Thomas mentally scolded.

"No, there is no need to." Thomas let out a deep breath, relived for Kailee's sake more than his own. "Serve the tea, and leave." He ordered, voice thick with disdain. "I have far more important matters to attend to then the likes of you, girl."

"O-of course, sir." The tea was served swiftly and without further complication, but Thomas could see the effort it took for her not to spill anything due to her trembling hands. He felt sorry for her, but he had already done enough. If he intervene a second time he might do more harm then good. So he kept his mouth shut and let her leave without a word.

"Now, where were we?" Thomas knew better then to answer so he simply took a sip of his tea and waited for his Master to continue. "Ah, yes. The matter of my frère"

"I'm sorry, Master, but I'm not familiar with that term." The man took a mouthful of his tea, ignoring the request of translation hidden between Thomas words and simply went on.

"What I'm about to tell you might upset you, Thomas. I question if it is wise to tell you, or simply idiotic of me to do so, but I have come to the conclusion that you have every right to know. Also, I fear I might risk losing you if I don't come forward with the information I have on my hands. And I will not lose you again."

Thomas clutch tightly around the fragile china cup between his hands.

"Thomas, I want to talk to you about Sean." Thomas hand froze in mid air. His mind exploded with images of a fight in a dark forest. He felt dread and fear in his vain, but anger and rage as well. He wish for revenge for what the man had done to him, yet, he fought the urge to run away and hide.

"I knew this would happen." His Master said with a deep sigh. "Thomas, I know you're not fond of talking about it, but I need to address this matter with you."

"W-why?" God, Thomas hate the way his voice broke at the end – like a scared little kid. It made Thomas curse himself and the Beast inside of him growling even louder in displeasure.

**Pathetic! You are fucking pathetic!**

"Why do we need to talk about him?" He pushed the Beast aside.

"It seems like Sean, and I'm still not sure exactly how, has manage to get hold of your medical records from the hospital. By doing so, I fear he now knows about the fact you lost a major part of your memory during the fight. Furthermore, and probably most alarmingly, is that apparently he's on the hunt for you."

"W-what?" This time Thomas cursed himself before the Beast could howl at him. "I mean, why? What does he want from me? Whatever it is, it can't be good."

"No. It's not."

Thomas did not dare to ask. He could barely keep the screaming kid inside at bay as it was – not to mention the Beast ready to snap at him. If he opened his mouth now, it would only end up with the kid ordering him to "Run away and hide you idiot!" or "Leave the fucking country you moron!" – so, in one last attempt to retain the little dignity he had left, Thomas said nothing.

"If I interpreted the Intel correctly, which I believe I have, he will try to use your lack of memory to his advantage."

"To his advantage? How?"

"By lying."

Of course. Thomas should have seen it coming. People like Sean, there is only one way of actions - Playing dirty.

"He will probably tell you stories; trying to pose as a friend, or someone you trust. Perhaps even go so far as to claim to be your Master or, god forbid, your lover."

"You are joking, right?" Disbelieve written all over his face.

"I wouldn't put it past him." _No fucking way!_

"Thomas," Eric said, expression grave, and his voice severe. "It's quite clear he want you to join his organization. I'll, of course, do what I can to prevent that from happen, but I won't lie to you; Sean is a dangerous man. There is a reason for way the family cast him aside, after all. He is heartless, and very much driven by power. I would advice you to tread careful, but if anyone should be aware of what this man is capable off, it would be you."

Thomas nods in confirmation. His lack of memory was, more often then not, nothing but a curse – startling him with bits and pieces here and there. Never anything concrete or solid, just a haze and blurred images. But, regard to the night in the woods – the pain he felt, the fear and the harsh wind against his trembling body – did his lack of memory seemed more like a blessing then a curse. And yet... _Something is wrong_ , a part of him – the small voice at the back of his head said, too small to belong to the Beast – couldn't help but question it.

 _But what?_ Thomas thought to himself. What is bothering me? _Besides, the fact that the same man who left me to die is currently – Oh._

"But Master," Thomas said, putting down his half drunken tea. "Why would he have left me to die, only to later go through so much trouble to reclaim me? He could just have kidnapped me while I was still unconscious. It makes no sense."

"Thomas, you're a grimm – a crucial, and a highly valued asset to any organization around the globe. The fact there is only a few of your race left in the world only increases your importance. Sean knows this, too."

"Then why leave me behind? Why act now?"

"Back then you already had a Master. Sean – or anyone else for that matter, can do nothing to change that. You were already claimed so to speak. Any act upon taking you as their own would be the same as a deceleration of war. So, even if Sean wanted to he couldn't lay a hand on you without risking his own downfall. That's why he left you to die. You were to no use for him as long as you already had a Master." Thomas had to admit the explanation sound plausible, but what changed? He still had a Master. He is still claimed, right? So why? The only difference is –

_My memory loss..._

Thomas sigh deeply. _So that's how it is._

"You understand now, don't you?"

"My memory loss. Because I can't remember anything clearly I'm wide open for persuasion, no to mention easy to manipulate. As long as he is convincing enough I risk buying his story and change Masters."

"Yes. As long as your memory is blocked from your mind you're at a disadvantaged."

"Oh, god. He could have claimed me so easily and I wouldn't even have known!"

"But you do know. Besides, I would never have let you out of my rule."

Such a claim should have reassured Thomas – to know his Master refusing to let him go without a fight, but all it cause was a shiver and another round of second guessing.

"Now, you've to excuse me, but I'd have a rather important call to make."

"Of course, Master." Thomas made his move to leave when his Master's voice stopped him.

"Thomas. I meant what I said. I won't let him, or anyone else have you. You're mine."

Thomas simply nod and shut the door behind him. His sixth-sense screaming at him to run. But run to where? And from whom?

The image of a tall dark haired man emerge once more inside his mind. The memory – was it a memory? – made him feel safe. This man made him feel safe, but way? Why did this stranger make him feel protected when his Master did not?

Thomas sigh heavily. "Who the hell are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I appreciate Kudos and I am an absolute sucker for comments! I love to hear your thoughts, so please do leave a comment or two.
> 
> Much love Nicole.
> 
> frère= my brother


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again I apologize for the delay, but school is effectively killing any sources of inspiration I have. I will try to be better in the future.

**Chapter Six**

The light had never been so cruel, so bright and destructive. It felt like every ray could crack his head open; and the lack of sleep last nigh, and the night before, not to mention the night before that, didn’t help much either. With a sighed Renard let go of the notes he had been reading. He was too tired to see straight. He needed sleep, badly. But every time he shut his eyes Nick's face appears, begging him to help him, to _find him_.

Renard had come to grim realization that his search for Nick would kill him one way or the other. If this kept going for much longer Renard wouldn't be too surprise if he died because of stress and lack of sleep. And not finding Nick at all... His heart ached at the thought

Renard hadn't fully understood how much Nick had meant – _means_ to him until recently. It was as if a part of him had vanished as well and it was growing still. It would only be a matter of time before it would swallow him whole.

And it scares him.

There were no doubt in Renard's mind that he had to find Nick, no matter what. He had made a promise after all.

The memories of Juliette the night of Nick's disappearance hit him in full force. The poor woman; so eager to help but very much clueless of what to do. Not that there were much she could do to begin with – she, Monroe or anyone else, not even himself for that matter. Until they found a clue, something concrete to go on, all they could do was to keep looking and pray. Renard hated it. To be so... so _powerless_!

The phone rang.

"Renard," he snapped. Not even bother to hide the irritation he felt, less caring what the person on the other side of the line took offensive or not.

"Brother, dear; you sound stressed. Is everything alright?" Renard almost threw the phone against the wall in blind rage. His brother was the lest person he wanted to talk to.

"It's not any of your business, _brother_." Renard hisses.

"Oh, that bad? Do tell what's wrong. Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

"The last time you were of assistance you send an assassin after me and my mother so I will pass. If that's all I do have important matters to attend to."

"Yes. Of course. I can only imagine the burden you must face on a daily basis. Protecting your important detectives and all that."

Renard felt his knuckles turned white around the phone.

"It must be all very exhausting to keep them safe, especially that grimm of yours."

Renard felt his stomach sudden twist and turned. Was his brother mocking him? Gloating, perhaps? Sean couldn't tell.

"What are you implying?" Renard growled. He could hear Eric chuckle over the line.

"I'm not imply anything. I'm simple stating the fact. That grimm of yours is a magnet for trouble, is he not?”

Renard refused to reply. Too occupied to calm his racing heart. “Anyway... I'm afraid I have to cut this call short. You're not the only one with work to do. Until next time, brother dear."

"Wait-!"

The line went dead.

Furious Renard slammed the phone shut. A growing sickness of fear grew in the pit of his stomach. Something awful was about to happen, that much was obvious. And somehow Nick was standing right in the middle of it. Probably alone.

 _No_ , Renard though. Not alone.

Nick was still his detective. His responsibility. He had to find Nick. He had to bring him back home: to Juliette, to Monroe, to Rosalee; to every wesen in Portland who saw him as a loyal friend. But foremost Renard had to find Nick for his own sanity. The last couple of months had been a living nightmare and that said a lot consider the hellish life he had been living because of whom, and what he is.

He needed Nick, probably more so then he realize. Only current events had opened his eyes of the grimm's importance. Not just the grimm, but Nick Burkhardt as well.

He needs Nick back.

Out of the corner of his eye Renard spotted Hank on his way over to the coffee-machine. Hasty he left his seat and rushed over to the door to catch the detective. He need consultation and some advice.

"Hank." The man in question halt in an instant.

“Yes Captain?” Renard could see various of emotions flash by in the detectives eyes: fear, concern, hope and resignation to name a few, but fear above any else. Renard didn't blame him. They were both cops and therefore had the rulebook memorized by heart. Any news about Nick at this point and forward would either be heartbreaking or a conformation of death. Neither were appealing and both oh so very terrifying. And if Renard was being honest, he couldn't decide the nature of the news his brother had graced him with. If Nick were, in fact, in the hand of his brother, it would mean his detective was still alive, but it would also raise the question in which state he would be in. His brother was not a man who enjoy getting his hands dirty, but if it meant to improve his status and extend his powers, Eric's cruelty knew no boundaries.

Torture would be one of them.

"My office, please."

"What's going on?” Hank asks as he enters the office. “Is it Nick? Have you found him?"

"I don't know yet. Please, shut the door." Hank frowns, but do what he is told. “I need your opinion on the matter before I'll make up my mind."

"Okay..." Confused Hank took a seat. "My opinion on what? This is about Nick, right?"

"As I said, I'm not sure. I don't know if my desperation for new leads makes me imagine things, but if not we need to act fast."

Renard sigh. "My brother just called me."

"Your brother? Um... Eric, right?"

"Yes."

“What has your brother calling you anything to do with Nick's case?”

"My brother never calls if it's not to gloat or to reminding me of being a bastard of a son."

"Sounds like a charming guy." _You have no idea,_ Renard though bitterly.

"I don't know how solid it might be but consider the fact that my brother _did_ visit around the time Nick disappeared is enough in it self to raise a flag, why it didn't do so to begin with I have no idea. I blame it on the whisky. Then there is the call, in which he mention Nick. Adding it all together it seems more then likely that my brother might know far more about Nick's disappearance then he lets on."

"Or the culprit all together," Hank concluded.

Images of Nick being trapped and harmed, specially by his brother, made the Zauberbiest inside of him growl in rage, his claws itching to tear something, or _someone_ apart.

"Sir, are you alright?" Renard took a deep breath. He needed to calm himself down. It was not like him to loose control. But then again, he had never lost Nick quite like this before either.

"Yeah. I'm fi– You know what? No, I'm not fine, Hank. I'm tired and worried. If my brother actually has Nick in his disposal..."

Hank could see that the man were telling him the truth. You didn't need to be a detective to see the exhaustion hanging over Renard's shoulders, clutching to every movement like a heavy chain rapped around his body. Hank had never seen the man so dragged down before.

It makes one wonder... _How deeply do you actually care for him?_

Hank couldn't fight back the corner of his lips rose in a half smile. If only the Captain knew the things that had left Nick's mouth the first time the young detective had lay his eyes on him. Hank had been genuinely surprised back then when Nick hadn't asked their Captain out, but that was before he knew about Juliette.

"What did your brother say to make you suspicious?" Hank asks. Deciding to play cupid for another time.

Renard sigh. "He said something along the line: I can only imagine the burden you must be under... protect your detectives... not to mention that grimm of yours... It must be exhausting to keep them safe..."

"Sounds like smugness to me. Perhaps even a warning of some sort. But a warning of what?"

"Who knows? But I agree. Whatever plans my brother has, it's not good. I might not know everything about my brother, but I have enough experience to take his warning to heart. If that's really is what the call was all about, that is."

"You think otherwise?" Renard rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was going to die off early age at this rate.

"I don't know, Hank. My brother hates to get his hands dirty, literally. But if it might help him raise in rank he will do pretty much anything."

"And... Um, how much would his status improve with a grimm at his side?" Hank was almost too afraid to ask.

"Massively."

 _Is that way you hired Nick in the first place?_ Hank couldn't help but to wonder. _To strengthen your own power?_ The idea alone made his blood boiling.

"But what worries me the most," Renard went on, "is not the power my brother might gain."

"Oh? Then what is?" Hank could see the anxiety in his Captain's eyes. It made Hank's heart stop dead in his chest. "Captain?"

"Hank, you probably knows Nick better than anyone. So answer me this: would Nick follow orders, any orders of those that goes against his own code of morals and believes?" Hank didn't even need to think it over before he replied a flat 'hell no'. Renard agreed. It was one of the many traits Renard respected about the younger detective.

"A grimm with a strong personality as Nick's is not a good thing I take it?"

Renard sigh. "Under normally circumstances a grimm with a strong belief in the justice system is a good thing. It makes them less likely to rely on violence. But in regard to my brother? No, it's not a good thing. Hank, you have to understand that my brother is a ruthless and dangerous man. If Nick refuse to bend to my brother's wishes, which he more then likely will, I fear of what shape – if my brother now actually has Nick in his disposal – will be in once we find him."

The color instantly drained from Hank face. Renard didn't blame him. Had Renard not grown up with this shit on daily basis he might have been hurling over the trashcan the moment his brother had hanged up on him.

"A-are... you suggesting Nick might be torture!" Renard sigh for what felt like the umpth time.

"If he reject my brother's offer to work for him, then yes, there is the possibility."

The raw fear Renard could see in the other man's eyes were clear as day. And with every right, too. If Nick truly were in the hands of his brother, then there was no telling what Eric might do to his missing detective.

"Perhaps a short visit to your _dear brother_ might be in order," Hank growled, viscously.

"Well. He _did_ express his concern over the phone. It would only be polite to return the courtesy."

"You want me to come with you? I have a few vacation days left I can use." Renard thought it over. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have some extra firepower, or backup for that matter... A sudden thought had him smirking. Perhaps in this case a pair of really sharp teeth was a more efficient weapon then bullets.

"Thanks Hank, but I think an angry blutbad might be a better companion for this trip. Wouldn't you agree?"

The detective responded with such a wicked smile that Renard would had quiver in his suit had he been less of a man.

"Oh, absolutely. Dogs are a man's best friend after all. And I have no doubt in my mind that Monroe bites worse then he barks. Especially when it comes to Nick."

"Agree." Renard grabbed his jacket and keys. "Now, if you were to excuse me, I have a blutbad to see."

 _When this is all over I'm going for a vacation_ , Renard thought as he shut the door behind him. _A fucking long one_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always. Love to hear your thoughts and any ideas you might have.
> 
> Much love  
> Nicole!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

"Fucking hell yeah I'll go with you!" Monroe barked. _No surprise there_ , Renard thought, watching the blutbad pace back and forth, probably making a mental list of what to pack and not, undoubtedly.

"You think your brother knows something about Nick´s disappearance?" Rosalee asks as she entering the room with a tray of fresh coffee. "Here you go."

"Thanks," he said and took a mouthful. It was a bit bitter but gratifying no less. "And to answer your question, I'm not sure. I might be barking on the wrong tree but my gut feeling is telling me that my brother either knows something or–"

" _Or_ the bastard is the one who took him!" Monroe snapped.

"Or that," Renard finished. "Either way– "

"Either way we're going!" Monroe said, once again cutting Renard off mid-sentence. It was rude and annoying as hell. Had it been anyone else Renard would have had the man's tongue cut out for his insult. Renard played with the idea for a while, but thought better of it. No matter how tempting it was, the act would not earn him any points from Nick. Renard sigh. _I'm losing my edge,_ he though tiredly.

"Are you even listening to me?" Monroe snapped. "Or are we beneath you, _your highness_?"

_Maybe I can cut off one of his ears. I'm sure Nick would forgive me. Well, eventually, any way._

"Monroe!" Rosalee hissed. "Behave yourself."

"You are right. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out I just... I just want my friend back, dammit!" Rosalee put a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed to calm him somehow. "I'm sick and tired of being in the dark." Monroe went on. "Not knowing if he is alright or if he is hurt and unable to come back to us on his own. Hell, we don't even know if he is even still alive. Its been almost four month... and I... I miss him."

Renard could see the tears in the blutbad's eyes but said nothing. It was not his place to comment on it or offer comfort. That task was for a friend or a lover, Renard was neither.

_We all do_ , Renard thought sadly.

"We will be leaving by the end of the day," Renard explained. "I'll send a car to pick you up at 9.pm. Be ready or I'll leave without you." Monroe nods. "Good."

Taking the last of his coffee Renard rose from his seat and went for the door. He has a lot to take care of before their departure.

"What about Juliette?" Rosalee sudden asks. "She'll be coming with you too, right?"

Renard debated whatever or not to even bother with an answer or simple leave and let her figure it out for herself. This was a rather delicate situation, after all. One wrong move could end up with a bloodbath. His brother was a ruthless man. Nothing was sacred or off limits in his quest for power. A helpless woman with a soft heart or means to protect herself had no place where they were headed. She would be safer here.

"The less the better," he replied matter of fact. "Too big of a crowed will only draw unnecessary attention. And we don't want that, trust me. If my brother gets even the slightest hint that we are coming there is no telling of what he might do to us, or to Nick for that matter. Are you prepare to take that risk?"

Renard could see the emotionally battle inside of her. He could understand the woman's wish to inform Juliette about the recent development, but he firmly believed his way of thinking was the only way to protect them from his brother's insanity.

"Because I'm not." And he really wasn't. He felt guilty enough as it was. If any harm, or further harm for that matter were to happen to Nick because carelessness or sentimental stupidity on his part, Renard knew he would never forgive himself. Hell, he refused to even forgive himself for Nick's disappearance – or for letting him be gone for as long as he already had.

"I understand what you are saying," Rosalee said softly. "But I'm sure she would like to know about it. It's not fair to keep her in the dark. It's just cruel." Renard felt his control crack due to the frustration and fear. Yes, fear. He was no less of a man by admitting to such an emotion. As long as it was only to himself, that is.

"And what if I'm wrong? What good would it do her to get hopes up only to have reality smack her in the face once more?"

_Or see the disappointment of my failure on your faces if  I'm_ _wrong_ , Renard thought, gritting his teeth.

"As I see it, telling her, what might turn out be nothing but a misjudge on my part, would be far more heartless then keeping her ignorant until we have something solid to tell her. Wont you agree?"

"You're right," Rosalee sigh. "I'm just sad to see the Prince of Portland to die in such a relative young age." Renard rose an eyebrow at her. Was she implying that his brother was the superior between the two of them? Renard felt the Zauberbiest inside of him snarl in rage. He do rather stab himself with a blunt edge knife, _repeatedly_ then submit to his brother. The mere idea of displaying such degradation was preposterous.

"I'm touched by your concerned, Calvert, but I can ensure you I'll not let my brother beheaded me with ease." _Not until I have killed the bastard myself, that is._

"I'm not referring to your brother, your highness. I'm talking about Juliette. Once she finds out the truth about you keeping her in the dark I'm sure she will use a scythe against you in such a way it would impress even the most ruthless of rippers.”

"Is that a promise miss Calvert?"

"No, just a friendly advice."

The poor attempt on the blutbad part to hide his amusement had Renard once again fighting back the urge to tear the blutbad's tongue out – perhaps a few fingers would do the trick? They were quite significant to a clockmaker after all.

"I'll take my chances."

"Don't underestimate a woman just because of our pretty look and gentle smile. A vengeful woman is a dangerous force to be reckon with. Quite deadly, too."

Renard shuts the door, probably with a bit more force then needed to, and left. Determined to make this trip into a two man job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I appreciate Kudos and I am an absolute sucker for comments! I love to hear your thoughts, so please do leave a comment or two.
> 
> Much love Nicole


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man stumbled over his feet, sweat dripping down his face and back. He could hear the sound of unhurried footsteps closing in on him from behind. On the brink of tears, terrified and desperate to escape, the man quickly got back up on his wobbling legs and pushed forward. 
> 
> He didn't want to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I profoundly apologize for my lack of update! Life has been far too hectic with the university swamping me with homeworks and assignments. I admit I had bit of a struggle with his chapter, and therefor it took me a while longer to write it. All mistakes are my own and feel free to correct me anytime.
> 
> I hope you will be satisfied with the chapter and keep supporting me right to the end.
> 
> As always, please leave kudos and comments. Love to hear your thought.  
> Much love Nicole.

**Chapter Eight**

The man stumbled over his feet, sweat dripping down his face and back. He could hear the sound of unhurried footsteps closing in on him from behind. On the brink of tears, terrified and desperate to escape, the man quickly got back up on his wobbling legs and pushed forward. He didn't want to die.

With his heart beating painfully against his ribs he kept running further into the building. He had worked here for five years, slaving his ass off to please the prince. Every staff member feared the man, you would be a fool not to. They were all well aware of his impatient and ill temper, his insatiable hunger for power and fame. It would be in their best interest for everyone to keep the prince satisfied. Unfortunately, this time around, they had failed in that regard. And the prince, the tyrant that he was, did not take too kindly to failure. The distinct sound of metal scraping against the concrete floor echoed loudly in the otherwise quiet facility.

Sobbing with desperation he jerked the door nearest to him open, and rushed inside; slammed the door shut behind him, then locked it for good measure. Shaking he pushing himself as closely to the wall as he possible could, then held his breath. Begging to whatever god that were available to his pray. Because right now, he was in dear need of all help he could get. Yes. The prince was cruel and very much dangerous. But, the princes' new pet was, too, a force to be reckon with. Non had ever seen the man's face and survived to tell the story. But the rumors where there, whispering around the employees in hush voices and paranoia. Not knowing who was listening. The tale was that of a young man, dressed in all black, form-fitted leather with a single sword strapped to his back. It was said that his movements was that of a panther; graceful and powerful. Hunting his pray with steps barely there to the human ear, calm in his pursuit, but fast and deadly in his attacks. Even if the identity of the _Black Panther_ , as he had been named among the staff, was still a mystery, enough was known about him, about his methods, for them to know to run away in fear. Trying to calm his racing heart, powerless to do much else, the man prayed. Praying for his life since he were about to meet the offspring of the devil – The Grimm.

 

Thomas was hunched down outside, observing the man from the shadows. His mission was simple, but even this being far from his first, the act still felt wrong. As if what he did went against his moral beliefs somehow. Thomas shook his head, it made no sense. He was a grimm, as well as a servant to his Master and had been so for years, there were no reason for him to have this conflict emotions, and yet, the guilt was there. **Do we have to go through this every fucking time?** The Beast growled. **Our Master gave us a direct order, are you defying them?**

“No. Of course not. I would never go against Master's wishes.” **Then stop your whining and let me the hell out of here. This is what we do, is it not?** Sighing Thomas pushing his personal dilemma aside. The Beast was right. They had a job to do. Thomas brushed the dirt off from his trousers. Time to get to work.

Shutting his eyes closed, Thomas relaxed himself, letting his body go lax and his mind blank. The sensation of being pulled under nudged his conscious mind. It was gently at first, but gradually it grew stronger until Thomas succumb and felt himself fall. It was very much like falling half asleep. Thomas was still aware of what was going on around him – he _was there_. Only, it was no longer Thomas himself who was in charge of his body, but the Beast.

The first time Thomas had felt the Beast trying to resurface from his slumber, Thomas had been training. He had still yet to come with the terms of the abilities the grimm had provided him with. He was stronger, faster and his hearing far greater then the average human. In his amazement, Thomas couldn't help but to wonder how far he could push, how far he could go before he reached the limit. He wanted to know the true extension of his powers. It had been then, immersed in thoughts, that Thomas had heard it.

The voice had been soft, barely above a whisper. Thomas had first label it as his mind playing a trick on him. After all, he had been lacking sleep lately. Night after night Thomas had suffered from nightmares. His mind, hunted by shadow figures, trying to kill him. Lately, his dreams had been about a man with red eyes and had the facial features similar to a wolf. Thomas had woken up with a gasp as the wolf-liked man in his dream had jumped through a window and slamming him forcefully against a wall. It had all felt so real that Thomas had been genially surprised not to find any bruises or marks on his back upon awakening. The wolf-man had only been the beginning of a series of strange dreams. It was the next bizarre looking creature after the other. Thomas soon found it almost impossible to sleep through the night without some kind of disturbance. So consider his sleeping habits, which was little to non sleep at all, the prospect of having developed a small mental breakdown was therefor not such a far stretch.

It was not until a week later that Thomas heard the voice again, but now much stronger. **Your stance is unstable**. Thomas halted: his sword still in midair, about to attack. Surprised by the voice, but far more so by discovering that whoever had spoken, was right. Quickly Thomas readjusted his grip and strengthened his core in response. He slide into a more solid stance. **Good.** The voice said, approvingly. Thomas kept going with his training, swinging his sword as the voice shot out improvements from time to time. Thomas never questioned it.

Thomas felt himself being pushed aside, allowing the Beast to take control.

His world narrowed down, focusing solely on the mission at hand. His heart calm and yet racing with excitement. The hunt always made his blood boiling with the thrill of it. Reopening his eyes, the grimm smiled widely. **Let the hunt begin**.

 

He moved with stealth, little to no noise but the sound of the blade dragging against the floor. It always excited him – knowing it stroke fear in whoever was on the run. His senses is hyped. Aware of everything. The sound of the man's beating heart, racing with fear, the panting from running; the smell of the man's sweat coating his back and face. There were no real point in rushing, the man wouldn't be able to escape him after all. The fact that they even try was amusing as hell. Smiling he kept walking forward, calm and sure. The sound of the man, terrified and shaking, is loud to his sensitive ears. It was like sweet music, and he wished he could record it, to play it whenever he wanted to. Perhaps he would one day.

Ascending the stairs, one step at the time, he soon reached the second floor. He took the first corridor to the right and kept walking. He felt giddy with joy. It had been awhile since he had been out playing. He stopped, smiling triumphantly. _There you are_ , he thought, feeling his finger itch around the handle of his blade. Swiftly turning on his feet and with one leg raising to the air, he kicked the door in with enough force to dislocate it from the frame. It would have been rude not to knock, right? Stepping over the broken wood he entered the room. Immediately he spotted the man by the corner in the dark room, curled together like a scared child.

 **"Good evening,"**  he said, greeting the man.

"Please...." The man begged, pale and shaking. Tears and snot smeared on his cheeks and trembling lips. "Don't kill me, please. I beg of you."

Oh, how he enjoyed when they begged.

**"Sorry. But my Master's instructions were clear."**

"I'll do anything. Please!" Ignoring the man's plead he rose his sword. Fear flashed in the man's eyes, raw and uncontrolled. "No; please..." He stroke fast and hard. Cutting the man's head off in one clean cut. The man's pleading dying on his lips.

Returning the sword in its scabbard, he then picked up the decapitated head from the floor. Knowing just how much his Master loved it when he returned home with souvenirs from his missions. Throwing the head in a black bag, he left the room. Leaving the body behind for the others to see. After all, what's the point of the motivation if there were no one to see it? Smiling he pulled out his phone.

"Yes?" Was the curt respond. He could hear the sound of paper rustling in the background. The man was probably in his study, doing paperwork no doubt.

" **Mission accomplice**." He said, getting straight to the point.

"Good work." He could hear in his voice that his Master was pleased with him. He felt his heart skipped a beat at the pride of pleasing his Master. "Now; return home. I think we are about to receive guests and it would be rather rude not to be here to greet them with out most politeness."

" **As you wish**." He replied. Putting the phone back in his pocket he made his way over to the black bike, starting the engine and begin his drive home. The bag with the head bumping against his side the whole ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, don't forget a little kudos or a sweet comment <3


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nick belongs to no one,” he replies, fuming with rage. Eric grins widely, sending a shiver down Renard's back.  
> “Is that so?” Eric replies, smugly.  
> “Don't play games with me, Eric!” Renard growl, his voice low and dangerous. “I know you have him and I won't be leaving without him. Now; tell me where he is!” There is a sudden knock at the door. The sound made Eric's smile grow impossibly large.  
> “But brother, where is the fun in that?” Then the door opened and Renard found it almost impossible to breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally finds Nick, but is it really him?
> 
> Alright, I know I'm late with my update. I can only apologise. So, sorry for the wait!
> 
> As always, all mistakes in the grammar is on me. Feel free to comment.

**Chapter Nine**

The door slammed shut behind him. His temper short and hot because of the infuriated woman. Renard saw himself as a rational man, but when it came to some people – in this case Juliette, his patient was practically non existing. But he did had a very good reason for his secrecy, which the damn woman refuses to take into consideration before she starts yelling at him for not telling her about the possibility that they'd found Nick. This wasn't about whatever to wear a blue tie or a red tie case scenario, but about Nick's safety and wellbeing. Traveling in a group would draw more attention than two friends going for a short trip together. The word friend would be pushing it since Renard hardly knew the clockmaker, but it was the way they presented themselves that matters. As long as they'd gave the _impression_ of being friends, no one would question it. But a party of two men and a woman was sure to rise a flag.

Throwing his jacket off, Renard sigh deeply. He still had a lot to do before their departure and already he felt a headache growing. The conversation with Juliette had been brutal. Barely had Renard reached the precinct after his conversation with Monroe and Rosalee before his phone rang. Making the mistake of answering the call before checking the callers ID Renard almost had an heart attack when a furious Juliette shouted at him over the phone. He had tried to rationalize with her, but she wouldn't have it.

“Now, you listen to me, mister.” She spatted. “I don't fucking care who you are or how influenced you might be, but I'm going with you! And if you try to leave without me, I swear I will fucking shoot your dick off with your own damn gun.”

Sean Renard was many things, but a coward was not one of them. Sure, he was careful and causes, but never fearful. In that moment, however, Renard actually feared for his life. So, with no other choice, since he was pretty found of said organ, he agreed to the woman's demand. Which was why, half an hour later, he was planning his visit to his brother for not only two, but three people. It was a hassle to say the least.

Dropping down in his chair with a loud groan, Renard wished for a glass of whiskey. “Forget vacation,” Renard said to himself. “After this I am taking an early retirement.”

There was a knock on his door, disturbing his train of thoughts. Sighing Renard straightened himself in his chair. “Enter.” The door opened and Wu stepped inside, carrying a police file and a large mug coffee. “Yes?”

“I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I thought you would like to see this,” Wu said, flashing the file in his hand. “It's another rapport about a man having his head missing.”

Renard rubbed his temple tiredly. This was the third victim in less than a month. “Anything to go on?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Negative, sir.” As he thought. The crime took place during the night, no witnesses or a thread of evidence left at the crime scenes. The victims were different in age, sex and occupation. At paper they had nothing in common, except they were all missing their heads – and no trace of them either. “What would you like me to do?” _Your job_ , Renard thought irritatingly.

“Keep looking into it, Wu. There must be something we are missing.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, about the phone number you wanted me to run?”

“What about it?” Renard asked, sudden much more alert.

“Well, as you can see it's a local number,” Wu said, laying out the piece of paper on the desk for Renard to see. “But there is no name registered to it. Just an address.”

Upon reading the address Renard frowned. He knew that address. “It couldn't be...”

“Sir?” Confused Wu watch the Captain standing, his shoulder tens and face red with anger.

“That son of a bitch!” Renard cursed, grabbing his jacket and keys. Phone already out and dialing.

“Sir, what is going on?” Wu had never seen the Captain this upset since they learned about Nick's disappearance. Then it clicked. “It's about Nick, isn't it?”

Proventing himself from yelling – _who the fuck else?_ \- Renard focused on the voice on the phone.

**“Yes? Hello?”**

“Monroe, Renard here. Change of planes. I want you to call Juliette and have her coming over to the spice shop. We are leaving as soon as I get there.”

**“Why, what is going on?”**

“Just do as I say,” Renard snapped. “I will be there about half an hour. Be ready or I will leave without you.”

Monroe growled under his breath, but his wish to find Nick overruled his anger he felt towards the police captain, so he had little to no choice but to obliged. **“Fine. I'll be ready when you get here.”**

“Good. And Monroe.”

**“What?”**

“I don't like when people goes behind my back. So next time I say to keep your mouth shut, you _will_ keep your mouth shut! If not, I'll have your lips stitched together. Have I made myself clear?”

Monroe swallowed loudly, a shiver running down his spine. **“Very.”**

“Good.” Shoving the phone back in his jacket Renard went for the door. “Wu,” he said, glaring daggers at the Sergeant. “Focus on the cases with the victims gotten their heads cut off. Read them, memories them – every single detailed. I want to know all there is to know about this. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Wu quickly agree, too afraid to say anything else. Wu received a nod from the Captain before leaving the office. Perplexed Wu watched as the man practically ran towards the elevator.

“What the hell is going on?” Scratching the back of his head Wu returned to his desk. Looking over the open files before him - laughing at him.

With a deep sigh he took a pen and paper, determined to solve this before his Captain returned from whatever war path he'd initiate. There was something, at the back of his head, nagging at him to see, to put it all together, but so far, nothing. And it bogged the hell out of him.

“But why?” He asked himself, staring at the crime photos before him. “Why do you look so familiar?”

 

The black SUV parked outside the spice shop with minutes to spear. Monroe and Juliette already stood outside, waiting. There were no greetings other than Renard ordering them to get in the car.

“Be careful,” Rosalee said, concern and worrying about her two friends and missing grimm. Monroe gave her a quick kiss, promising to be home soon. “And Monroe, please bring him back.” Monroe could see the pain in his beloved's eyes. The least couple of months had been an emotional roller-coaster of hell to all of them. Monroe missed the constant calls and odd activities in the middle of the night. He missed the bickering, the teasing and friendly banter. He missed Nick.

“I will. I promise,” he said, determined to bring his friend back, no matter what the coast. With one last quick kiss before parting Monroe then throw his smaller bag in the trunk and jumped into the car. Barely had Monroe joined Juliette in the backseat before Renard hit the gas pedal; causing Monroe to yelp in surprise as the car took off with a roar.

“Care to tell us what the hell is going on and where you're taking us like your ass is set on fire?” Monroe asks, cracking after twenty minutes of silent driving.

Renard glared at the man through the back seat mirror, calculating how much to revile. _There is no reason to tell them everything_ , Renard concluded. A quick overall should be enough to increase their chances to get Nick the hell away from his brother.

“As you already know I recently received a call from my brother.” The _'Because you couldn't keep your mouth shut'_   went unsaid. “I asked Wu to run the phone number my brother used because I didn't recognized it as one of his usually numbers. Wu showed up at my office to inform me what he find, it was right before I called you, Monroe.” The blutbad perked up by the sound of his own name.

“There was no name associated with the number, but there was an address.” The atmosphere in the car changed in an instant – the air thick and tense. Renard could swear the temperature actually dropped.

“Y-you think we will find Nick at the address?” Monroe asks. The man's pale face and unmasked fear made it easy for Renard to grasp the Blutbad's train of thought. The thought of finding the dead body of his friend. Renard didn't blame him to draw the conclusion that he'd. Eric was a sick bastard and Renard wouldn't put it past him.Thought, his brother would only see death as half as fun in comparison with longtime humiliation or torture. And Eric was all about enjoyment. _Well_ , Renard thought. _The X marks the spot_.

“I mean... you know?” Monroe added, throwing a worried glance over to Juliette beside him. The woman still and quiet. Her lips firm and Monroe could see her hands trembling.

“You asking me if I believe we will find Nick's dead body? No. I don't. A quick death is not my brother's style. He prefer to play with his victims and only when he gets bored does he kills them.” Renard throws them a grim look through the mirror. “And do you honestly believe my brother will ever get tired of playing with Nick – a _grimm_?”

Monroe swallowed loudly, his throat sudden dry and thick.

“As such, we'll find Nick alive.” _In what state, thought. I don't know_... Renard refereed from saying as much. There was no point in telling them after all. Surely the thought had already crossed their minds.

“You sound awfully sure in you assumption.” This time it was Juliette who broke the silence. “There is more. Something you're not telling us.”

Renard gritted his teeth in cold rage. The moment Wu told him the address he'd been ready to kill. If his suspicions were correct then there would be no place for his brother to hide. Renard would hunt him down and kill him – _painfully_.

“I'm sure because the address Wu gave me is one I'm very familiar with.” Renard could see the confusion and deep curiosity swimming in their eyes, so to spare them the trouble in asking, Renard explained further. “The address is to one of my family homes.”

“W-what?”

“We don't use it that much, but I did spend a few years there when I was a young kid. You see, Portland wasn't a city my family had high regards for. It's one of the reasons why I decided to settle down here in the first place. To get away from them as much as possible. Now, _if_ my brother is the one responsible for Nick's disappearance, then there is a strong possibility that that's where Eric is keeping him.”

“I thought your brother lived in Austria,” Monroe said, frowning.

“He does.”

“Then why is he still here in Portland? It makes no sense.”

“Oh, but it does,” Renard muttered, his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. “To answer your question, Monroe,” He spoke up, loud enough for the others to hear him. “There is only one reason to why my brother would chose to stay here in Portland.”

“Which is?” Renard meet their eyes, his own stern and cold.

“To mock me.”

Neither one of the two said anything, which Renard appreciated. He wasn't in the mood. The relationship between him and his brother would be nothing but a disaster. Renard had spent most of his life firmly ignoring his brother, but Renard had a feeling he would be seeing his brother quite a lot from now on.

Renard turned left. It had been over a decade since he'd last visit the castle, but he still remembered the way there without any difficulties.

“I suggest that the both of you gets some rest,” Renard tells them. “It will take a while before we get there and I have a suspicion it will be a tense meeting.” He could see the trace of red flashing in the Blutbad's eyes. It made him smile. Renard looked suddenly very much forward in seeing his brother.

 

Around three and a half hours later Renard parked the car. The building looming over them as impressive and overwhelming as he remembered it.

“Now,” Renard said, turning to the backseat. “My brother is a dangerous man. At first impression he might not look like it, but don't let yourself be fooled. Eric is the type of man who shoot first and asks questions later. Then, just for fun, he shoots again. My point is, keep your mouth shut. Don't provoke him if not necessary. I would prefer to get us all out of here alive.”

“If he has Nick,” Juliette says, showing them a concealed glock 18 strapped to her hip. “Then I'll make sure to make him shut his own mouth. Once and for all.”

“That makes the two of us,” Monroe growl beside her; his teeth sharp and eyes glowing red. Renard was tempted to lock them inside of the car and go by himself, but he had to admit that even he was struggling to keep his Zauberbiest under control.

“As much as I would love to see my brother get his throat cut open, now is not the time. Our goal is to find Nick and bring him home. You need to focus on that. If not, _stay out of my way_.”

Renard left the car and start walking towards the castle. The sound of doors being shut behind him soon followed. Renard didn't turn around to see them, nor did he wait for them to catch up. As he crossed the driveway up to the building he took notice of the security, or more accurately, the _lack_ of it. Renard did find it rather peculiar as they passed the gates earlier, no guards were there to stop them. And now this?

“Am I the only one who has a bad feeling about this?” Monroe asks, watching his back for the fourth time.

“No. This place seriously gives me the creeps.” Juliette agreed. Renard ignore them both. He'd come too far to go back now. Besides, the idea of Nick being inside, just on the other side of these walls, urged him to push his anxiety aside. _There is no fucking way I'm leaving without him_. Inhale, then exhale slowly, and then, Renard knocked.

 

The door opened almost immediately.

“Good evening, sir.” A young woman with long brown hair greeted them. “You're expected. My Master is waiting for you in the study.”

Still very much on alert they entered.

“Would you like me to take your coats and jackets?” The lady asks them.

“No, thanks. We won't be staying for longer,” Renard replies. _We might need a quick exit in the end_.

“As you wish. This way, sir. I have been ordered to take you to him the moment of your arrival.”

“Stop wasting our time and just tell us where Nick is.” The woman frowned at them, confused and slightly taken back by the sudden hostility.

“I'm sorry ma'am, but there is no one here with that name.”

“Don't play dumb with us!” Juliette spat angrily. “We-”

“Apologies,” Renard cut in. Throwing daggers at the redhead. “She lacks basic manners and if she doesn't keep her mouth _shut_ I'll have her wait in the car.”

“I would like to see you try,” she shoots back. Refusing to back down.

“Don't tempt me, woman,” Renard growled. “I have no problem harming a woman.” _Not if that's what it takes to bring Nick back with me_.

His control cracking and Renard could feel his inner wesen snarling and howling at the challenge. Juliette's fingers twitched around the gun. Not that it would do her much good. His Zauberbiest faster than the average human reflexes. Renard would have her neck snapped before she even had a chance to draw her weapon. Any moment now and blood would be spilled.

“Um, I'm sorry to interrupt but you're here to see my Master, yes?” Both of them pointedly ignored her, too focus on each other and the potential threat they were facing. One greater than the other. Realizing this Juliette reluctantly let go of her gun. This was a fight she wouldn't win.

“Take us to your Master, then,” she said, gritting her teeth in frustration and anger.

“Y-yes, of course ma'am.” The poor girl looked absolutely petrified. “Please, we need to hurry,” she says, leading them to the staircase up to the second floor. “If I don't take you to him while his tea is still hot, I'll be punished.” _Tea? Punishment? What the hell._ Renard frowned, but refereed from asking for an explanation. It wasn't his business. He was here for Nick, nothing or _no one_ else.

Halting before a big oak door to which Renard, if his memory serves him correctly, would take them to the grand office. The possibility to see Nick again after months of absent was unnerving and alleviating at the same time.

The young lady knocked shyly at the door, announcing her presence. A loud grunt could be heard from the inside. Renard fought hard not to roll his eyes at the blunt disrespect shown from his brother. _No change there, then_.

“Master is ready for you now,” the lady said, allowing them entrance. Renard went first, marching in with quick strides straight towards the desk. Monroe and Juliette quickly followed.

Eric was easy to identify with his expensive suit and ill concealed arrogance. “

Brother, how wonderful it is to see you,” he says, greeting them warmly. Renard knows better.

“Cut the crap, Eric. You know why we are here.”

“As brash as always, brother,” Eric says, leaving his seat behind the desk. “If you're too cruel with words Sean you'll end up all alone. Perhaps it's that attitude of yours that had your precious little grimm fleeing the city. Seeking a more _refine_ Master.” Renard almost launched at his brother.

“Nick belongs to no one,” he replies, fuming with rage. Eric grins widely, sending a shiver down Renard's back.

“Is that so?” Eric replies, smugly.

“Don't play games with me, Eric!” Renard growl, his voice low and dangerous. “I know you have him and I won't be leaving without him. Now; tell me where he is!”

There is a sudden knock at the door. The sound had Eric's smile grow impossibly large.

“But brother, where is the fun in that?” Then the door opened and Renard found it impossible to breath. In walked a man dressed completely in black. He could hear the quick intake of breath from both Monroe and Juliette, equally shocked. Beside him Renard picked up the gloating voice of his brother, whispering in his ear:

“And I'm having so much fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll do my best to update soon.
> 
> Please feel free to leave a small comment or kudos. Absolutely love it when you do!
> 
> Much love Nicole <3


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment they stepped outside the castle, Juliette turned to Renard.  
> “I can't believe you abandoned him.” She said, accusingly. “I thought Nick at least meant something to you, but I guess I was wrong.”
> 
> “I'm not abandoning him,” Renard replied firmly.
> 
> “What the hell do you call this, then?” Juliette snapped. Anger and pain from the encounter still fresh in her heart. “A tactical retreat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, time to finally have that reunion, or what do you say?
> 
> All mistakes are my own and feel free to correct me anytime.  
> I hope you will be satisfied with the chapter and keep supporting me right to the end.
> 
> As always, please leave kudos and comments. Love to hear your thought.  
> Much love Nicole.

**Chapter Ten**

Thomas shut the engine off. His back aching after the long drive and he could already imagine himself lying in a hot bath, relaxing and in pure bliss.

As he approached the entrance Thomas noticed a car he didn't recognized, but it wasn't strange for his Master to have visitors so Thomas didn't pay too much attention to it. Still, he couldn't completely ignore it. There was something about the vehicle that sparked a sense of.... _something_ at the back of his mind. Thomas pinch the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache approaching.

Removing his jacket and helmet put away, Thomas was greeted by one of the maidens, asking him if she could be of serves. With the thought of a warm bath firmly set in his mind, Thomas quickly dismissed her. In quick session Thomas ascending the stairs. He could already smell the aroma of lavender oil.

As he crossed the office, however, Thomas abruptly halted. From the inside he could hear the voice of his Master, and another he couldn't quite identify, and yet, it sound somewhat familiar. Frowning Thomas debated whatever to enter or not. It was not his place to meddle with the affairs of his Master, but Thomas was sure he'd know that voice – somewhere.

 _Well... I do need to hand in my report_ , he thought, smugly. Thomas knocked, waited a few seconds, then entered.

 

The door opened and Renard turned, only to get the air knocked out of him. In walked none other than Nick, confident and... _Holly shit!_ He thought, his eyes glued to the man as a moth was drawn to the flame. The air sparked with intense heat and Renard, seamlessly admit, sexual lust. The poor blutbad could probably smell the thick musk of arousal from all three of them. But who could blame them? The way the grimm was dressed was on the edge of being pornographic: black leather pants which looked almost painted on his muscled legs, a tight black long sleeved t-shirt framing his toned arms and compact stomach perfectly. His raven black hair slicked back and made his eyes all the more striking. Then, attached around the man's hips and down the right leg where a holster strapped with variations of knifes and daggers in different shapes and sizes. But it was the black sword Nick carried on his back, slim and sleek that stood out the most. Over all, the sigh of the man was breathtaking, sexy and very much deadly.

Renard swallow thickly, and realized with mild embarrassment his throat wasn't the only thing going thick. His mind running wild with all sort of fantasies including his sexy detective and late hours down at the precinct. The image of the man showing up dressed in all leather and-

Clearing his throat Renard forced himself to focus on the situation at hand, not to bend the grimm over and fuck him, no matter how tempting it was, but damn, it was tempting!

 

As Thomas walked in his eyes immediately landed on a tall man with dark, raven hair and sharp cheekbones. A rush of familiarity settled in his stomach. _I know this man, but how?_ Frowning Thomas stepped further into the room, never taking his eyes of the tall man. Then, as he came closer, Thomas sudden realize why the man was so familiar. Rage and cold-stone hatred hit him hard and Thomas fought the urge to draw his sword.

“What are _you_ doing here?” He spat, his words dripping with venom. However, the reaction he received from the man, was most peculiar. It was as if he was in some kind of haze. If Thomas didn't know any better, he would almost say the man was paining. The intense stare, dark and blown wide, aroused. Thomas would lie if he said the sight of the man didn't had a similar effect on him, despite what the he'd done to him that night in the woods all those weeks ago. Frustrated, and somewhat confused, Thomas turned to his Master.

“Master, what is going on?” This, however, seemed to snap the man out from whatever rabbit-hole he'd been in.

“Master?” The aggressiveness in the man's tone took Thomas by surprise. Sure, his Master did warn him about the man's obsessiveness to have Thomas for himself, but this – the spark in those dark eyes had Thomas wondering if perhaps there was something more to it, something beyond the simple desire of claiming ownership of a grimm. What was he missing? Before Thomas could think too much about it he was suddenly embraced by a redheaded woman.

“Nick!” She cried, clinging to him almost desperately. He hadn't even notice her, or the other man dressed in plane flannel and trousers too big; too focused on the taller man in front of him to pay them any attention. Until now, that is.

“I have missed you so much!” Lost for what to do Thomas let her be. “I... I never thought I was ever going to see you again.” _Again?_ Thomas frowned down at her.

“Sorry, miss,” Thomas said, pushing her gently aside. “But I don't know you. In fact, I would very much prefer if you kept your distance. I'm not fond of being hugged by strangers.” The woman looked up at him, shocked.

“Strangers? Nick, it's me, Juliette. Your girlfriend.” Thomas laughed aloud.

“Girlfriend? I highly doubt that.” His eyes once more landing on the tall man before him. “Not that you aren't beautiful, but I don't really play for your team. If you get my drift.” Her face went pale and expression blank.

“W-what?” Quickly Juliette shoot Renard and Monroe a desperate look, begging them for help. She was greeted with equally lost stare. “But Nick...”

“My name is Thomas, not Nick.”

“I tried to explain to them.” Eric says, pointing at the redhead, “That they have been mistaken. There is no one here with that name. A simple case of mistaken identity.”

”Mistaken identity? _A mistaken identity!_ ” The other man, dressed in flannel, growled. ”You call kidnap and brainwash, because that's what you did” – he pointed angry at his Master – “a mistaken identity!”

Thomas frowned. _Kidnapped? Brainwash? What the hell is he talking about?_ The man suddenly turned to look at him. Thomas was once again flooded with the sense of familiarity, despite never meet the man before. Something about broken glass kept poking at him at the back of his mind. Thomas felt his fingers twitch nervously, confused and a bit scared that he was going fucking mental.

“Nick, you don't belong here. This is not your home. Your place is with us and we are here to take you back.” Monroe said, reaching out for his friend.

A sudden sharp pain blossomed across his cheek had Monroe instantly halted. Frowning he graced the sore skin with his fingers, touching something warm and liquid. The tip of his fingers were covered with blood.

“W-what the hell...” Then, Monroe saw the small knife sticking out from the wall next to him, sharp and deadly.

“I warned you that I'm not fond of close contact,” Thomas growled, panting slightly. “So, if you wish to keep your head – _pup_ , then I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

Monroe felt goosebumps humping painfully down all over his skin, like someone had poured cold water down his spine.

“Nick, dude.” Thomas felt his heart ache all of a suddenly. The open show of pain and sorrow; _betrayal_ on the man's face, resonate with Thomas on a level he couldn't explain. _What the hell is happening to me?_ He thought, the earlier headache now pounding painfully behind his eyes. A howl in rage shook Thomas out from his stupor, his headache instantly forgotten.

“What the hell have you done to him!” Renard shouted, shoved his brother violently to the desk. Watching Nick, not only deny Juliette her very own existent as his girlfriend, but then harming Monroe, his best friend, too, made his blood boiling. Eric shoot him a lopsided grin. Renard felt the fabric around his fingers stretched almost to the point of tearing.

“Tell me what you did Eric, or I swear to god, I'll kill you.” This, however, only made the smile on his brother's face grow impossible wide. Then, before Renard could do much else, the unmistakable touch of cool steel pressed against his throat, forcing Renard to rethink his plan of murdering his brother – at least for now.

“Release him, or I'll cut your head off.” The agitation in his voice sent chills down Renard's spine. This was certainly not the Nick he knew. “Do it; now!” The blade pressed dangerously close to cut through. Saddened, Renard shook his head. _Please, Nick This isn't you..._

The soft curls of raven hair tickled Thomas nose as the man shook his head and was instantly assaulted by the distinct smell of orange and spice; triggering something locked inside of him. A sense of belonging of some sort. Uncertain in his stance Thomas felt the blade wavering slightly in his hand, the grip no longer define and he his action became questionable. Renard took notice of the uncertainty, frowning in thought and wonder about the reason to Nick's sudden change of behavior. Then again, why ask when it meant he was left to live another day? Reluctantly Renard parted from his brother, anger still raw and unstable. Thomas stepped back to give the man some space, but close enough to interfere if he had to.

“Thank you, Thomas.” Eric said, adjusting his shirt and jacket. Renard growled at him, his knuckles turning white as he clutched them hard in rage. “Well, as lovely as this has been, I thinks it's time to part.”

“There is no way we'll leave without Nick!” Juliette said, stepping forward. Renard quickly halted her. Angered she glared at him, about to ask why when she saw the blade half drawn at Nick's side; leaving no doubt he would attack if provoked. This was neither the time or place to bring Nick back, no matter how badly Renard wish to do so. This fight was lost. For now.

“I agree. We have intruded on your hospitality long enough, ” Renard said, about to take his leave. Juliette, however, had other plans.

“I refuse to leave without him!” She cried, pulling her gun. “I'll kill you if I have to.” Her hand shaking but determined no less. Eric showed a fleet moment of surprise, even a bit of administration by her action.

“I'm sure you will try,” Eric replied. “Sadly, you won't suceed.” A sharp sound of metal against metal rang in the otherwise silent room. A harsh cry and gasps soon followed. Juliette clutched her hand close to her chest, face pale and body trembling. The gun falling to the floor with a loud thud.

Staring at the blade pointed at her through the mist of tears, Juliette stumbled down to her knees; shaking. “N-nick, please.” She pleaded. “You don't belong here. You belong with us, with me.” Renard felt a sudden tug of jealousy and distaste for the woman. Then, shame. Guilty Renard tried to reason with her, but she refused to listen. “I won't leave.” She insisted. Desperate seeking for any sign of the old Nick, the Nick she fell in love with, but there were none.

“Juliette, listen to me. There is no point in staying,” Renard spoke. “He won't listen to us and staying will only do matter worse.”

Monroe, rather reluctantly, had come to the same conclusion.

“Juliette,” he said, carefully helping her up on her feet. Mindful about her injured hand where Nick had gazed her with his blade. “I hate to say this, but he is right. It's time to leave.”

Juliette, heartbroken, tried to keep the truth at by, at least for a little while longer. But, the sight of the blade, still pointed at her, left no room for delusional fantasies. Eric could easily have them all killed if that's what he wished for and the one to execute them? Would be none other than Nick himself. She couldn't stand the thought. Deep in despair Juliette finally gave in. With Monroe's hand around her shoulders they left the room. Throwing Nick one last glance before the door shut behind them.

 

The moment they stepped outside the castle, Juliette turned to Renard.

“I can't believe you abandoned him.” She said, accusingly. “I thought Nick at least meant _something_ to you, but I guess I was wrong.”

“I'm not abandoning him,” Renard replied, firmly.

“What the hell do you call this, then?” Juliette snapped. Anger and pain from the encounter still fresh in her heart. “A tactical retreat?” She mocked.

“ _Yes!_ ” Renard growls. Sick and tired of having to deal with the woman's sarcasm and obvious lack of personal manners. She wasn't the only one upset by what just had happened. Three months did Renard search for Nick. _Three months!_ And finally they found him – _alive!_ The relief he felt, the _joy_. Only to be forced to lose Nick all over again. To his sadistic brother of all people.

“There was nothing we could have done in there. You saw him; hell, you even have the mark to prove it, as do Monroe.” Sadden Juliette looked down at her still bleeding hand.

“I don't know what my brother did to Nick to change him, or how he manage to alter his memories about all of us, but he did. And until we know how, or find a way to fix it, we will remain the enemy, at least as far as Nick sees it. But sure, run back inside. Wave your little gun around, be my guest. However, you'll do it on your own. “ Biting her lip, Juliette seeked out Monroe. Only, the man didn't meet her eyes.

“I gave you my word I would bring Nick back,” Renard went forward. “and it's a promise I'm bound to keep. I'm _not_ abandoning him. I'm _not_ giving up on him, but we need to be smart about this. One wrong move and we might lose the only chance we have to ever get Nick back. Do you understand?” Still fighting the urge to run inside, Juliette reluctantly nod. “Good; now, let's head back home.”

Forcing herself to walk the other way, Juliette felt her heart crumble inside. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done.

In silence they walked over to the car. Each in deep thought and heavy concern. Then, Monroe sudden halted.

“He knew I was a blutbad,” he said, more to himself than to anyone in particular. Renard and Juliette turned, looking at him in slight confused.

“What?”

“Nick, he knew I was a blutbad. I called my doggy, or _pup_ to be exactly, but that's not the point.”

“Then, what is your point, Monroe,” Renard asked, rubbing his head tiredly.

“My point is,” Monroe huffed, annoyingly. “How did Nick know about what kind of wesen I am if his memories has been altered? I never woge inside.” Neither one of them replied, but then, Renard felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

“He remembers,” Renard said, his smile growing wider. “Unconsciously he remembers.”

“What does that mean?” Juliette asked, still unable to grasp the significant off it all.

“It means that there is still a chance to reach him.” _And I will reach him_ , Renard vowed, unlocking the car. Unknowing about the man watching him from the second floor window.

 

“Care to tell me what the hell is going on here?” Thomas asked, removing himself from the window. His emotions were still all over the place. Rage, confusion, nostalgic of some sort, but most of all – he felt betrayed. “How is it that I find the man responsible for my injuries and memory loss chatting, quite freely I might add, with my Master in his own _house!_ ” Under normal circumstances Thomas wouldn't dare to raise his voice, or question his Master's actions or decisions, but this was stretching his acceptation too far.

“Thomas, please; calm down. I know you're angry with me and you have every right to be, but I promise, I only did what I thought was best for you. ” Thomas bit back a snappy remark, but just barely. Eric sank down on the sofa with a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The man who attacked you,” he said, “The man who'd causing you so much pain and distress. His name is Sean Renard. And he is my brother.”

Thomas felt the air leaving in in a rush, his legs almost gave out underneath him. Stumbling forward Thomas reached for the desk for support, shaking his head in disbelief.

“He is half blood as was therefor exiled many years ago as a bastard's son. We... Thomas, please sit down.”

Thomas reluctantly did as he was told. He was still very much angry at his Master, but he also felt rather light headed and feared that if he did not take a seat, he would, in fact, collapse. “Thank you.” Thomas didn't comment, not yet at least.

“I haven't seen my brother for a very long time. As I knew he was no good, even as I kid, I quickly distance myself from him. It wasn't until I learned about his shady activity that I realize I could no longer turn a blind eye to my brother. I decided to put an end to it and bring him to justice. Which is why I brought you into all of this in the first place. Had I known about the consequences, how deeply his interest for you would grow, I would never gotten you involved with this.”

His Master sounded genially regretful, but still, something wasn't quite adding up. Perhaps he was still in shock, ending with unnecessary paranoid as the result.

“I called my brother while you were out hunting.”

“W-what?”

“We both know he wants you Thomas, your stolen medical record is proof of his insistence. I invited my brother over here to show him that he stand no chance of having you. That despite your lack of memories, you're still loyal to me and no-one else. I thought that if he saw you in all your glory, your strength and desire to protect me, he would give up on you and finally leave you alone.” Thomas felt his heart flutter at his Master's deceleration.

“You would go so far to protect me?”

“I told you before, Thomas. I won't let him have you, nor anyone for that matter. You are mine.” The spark of greed and determination burn bright in his Master's eyes and Thomas once again felt torn between concern and relief.

“Unfortunately,” Eric continue saying. “My attempt to keep him away from you might have backfired. Perhaps even making it worse by letting him see you.” Eric's shoulder slumped forward, exhaustion clear as day. “I'm sorry Thomas. I never intended for this to happened.”

Thomas felt a pang of guilt in his chest. To believe he'd doubt his Masters loyalty, when clearly, Thomas couldn't be further from the truth.

“It's not your fault, Master. Your brother is obviously a sick man,” Thomas said, looking down at his hands in shame. The pleased grin on the older man's face went therefor undetected. “I should have known you would never betray me. You have been nothing but generous since I woke up at the hospital. You invited you brother, despite personal hurt in seeing him after everything he'd done, in sake for my protection. I'm honored to serve you.”

“Yes. You're quite right about my personal feelings towards my brother. Seeing him does open up some old wounds. But, if there was any way to keep you safe, I'm bound to try it, am I not?” Eric flashed him a reassuring smile. “I'm glad you're not too upset with me, despite what I did. I should have told you about my plans. It can't have been easy for you to see him out of the blue like that.”

“It was quite a chock, yes, but I understand why you did it.” But despite the hate Thomas felt towards the man, now known as Sean, there was something else he felt, too. Something deeper than simple rage and anger, something almost akin to trust and administration. Pushing the absurd idea from later Thomas rose from his seat and excused himself. He was tired after all.

“Of course. We can talk more about the matter at a later time, if you so wish,” Eric offered. It would give Eric some time to construct a far more solid story to tell the grimm; a story more suited for his own needs and purposes.

“Good night, Master. Your souvenir is waiting for you downstairs, as always.” Eric nod affirmatively, then wishing the grimm a pleasant sleep.

The door shut behind him and Eric felt his smile growing.

Everything was going exactly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What did you think?
> 
> Please, don't forget a little kudos or a sweet comment <3


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you going to do about it?” She finally asked. And wasn't that the big question?  
> “I don't know,” Thomas replied. “I'm not even sure if I should do anything about it.”  
> “Well, whatever you do,” Kailee said, collecting his cup and put it back on the trey. “Be careful.”  
> “I promise. Again, thank you for the tea.” He received a shy smile from her before she left, leaving him once more alone with his treacherous mind.  
> If they are such a pain in the ass, we can always just kill them, the beast growled. Thomas sigh, turning on the bed.  
> “Somehow, I don't think its gonna be that easy.” Besides, I have this horrible feeling I would never forgive myself if I ever did.

**Chapter Eleven**

Stumble inside, Thomas face-planted himself on the bed. His mind running wild, too much had happened in the last 24 hours. _So much for taking a bath_ , he thought, far too tired to even lift a finger, much less tap up a bath for himself. Shutting his eyes Thomas let out a heavy sigh. There was nothing more Thomas wished for than to fall asleep, to forget todays event and the nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach that something wasn't quite right. Despite his Master's promise to keep him safe, Thomas still felt antsy. Not out of fear, no, but because it wasn't adding up. The blutbad's reaction when he harmed him, for example; too honest to be faked. Thomas frowned.

“How did I know he was a blutbad? He didn't woge.” Once again did the image of broken glass appeared at the back of his mind. “Why do I keep seeing you?” He asked aloud. And it wasn't just the blutbad, but Sean, too.

Before his encounter with Sean in the office this evening, Thomas did had numerous of images with the two of them together, all during different occasions as if they knew each other on a personal level. Thomas pinch the bridge of his nose, the headache now pounding intensely. Reaching into his pocket Thomas pulled out a jar. The medicine his Master gave him for his headache taste like shit, but it helped. Swallowing it down with some water, Thomas grimaced with distaste. “Fuck, this shit is disgusting,” he said, slumping back down on the bed. _But I guess its better then see things that's not there_ , Thomas thought, bitterly. A sudden knock on the door caught his attention. Frowning Thomas sat up. “Yes?” Seconds later, Kailee stepped inside.

“I-I'm sorry to disturb you, but I brought you some tea.” She said, carrying a tray with steaming hot water, sugar and milk. “I thought perhaps it might calm your nerves.”

“Well, thank you, Kailee. That's very thoughtful of you.” The girl practically beamed. “And yes. A cup of tea would be lovely.” Carry the tray inside, Kailee quickly poured him a cup, then add a spoon of sugar. “Makes me wonder, however,” he said, taking the cup from her. “how you knew about my state of mind. I never ran into you on my way to my room, nor did I see you as I got back from my mission this evening.” Thomas had a sneaky suspicion about the answer already, but it was always fun to tease her about it.

“I...um, you see...” Fumbling with her hair, Kailee looked away from him shamefully. “I apologize. I didn't mean to pry, but I was worried about you.” Thomas took a sip of the tea, knowing there were more to come and therefore gave her the time she needed.

“When I let them in, I knew there would be trouble. I really try not to judge, but... they worries me; especially that woman.” At that, Thomas couldn't help but to laugh aloud. If only Kailee knew what preposterous things she'd try to sell him. As if he'd have a girlfriend. _Never gonna happened_ , Thomas thought, shaking his head, amused. “And when I walked pass the office on my way to the kitchen.” She said. “I heard loud noises from inside, then you spoke and I... just couldn't walk away.”

“So, you eavesdropped on us?”

“I know I shouldn't have. I'm sorry.” Thomas knew he should tell her off, but honestly, he didn't had the heart to. He did, sort off, do the same thing after all. “Are you very upset with me?” Kailee asked, shyly making eye-contact with him. Looking very much like the young woman she is.

“Of course not.” Thomas replied. “Just be careful. You know how strict our Master is. Any rudeness or disrespect will be severely punished.”

“I know.” She said, quietly. Kailee had been here long enough to know the dangerous she lived with, all of them did. Thomas included, tho, for some reason, their Master was very keen on avoiding laying his hand on him. A fact Kailee was secretly very grateful for. Every since he protected her from their Master's rage that time she brought him lukewarm tea, she'd been in debt to him. She'd look very much forward to repay the favor one day. “Then, how are you feeling?” She cautiously asked.

“Honestly?” Thomas said, placing his cup on the bedside table. “Confused.”

“How so?”

“I don't know how much you heard when you eavesdropped on us,” he said, smiling humorously at her. Kailee blushed furiously and Thomas chuckled. But, humor aside. “I don't know Kailee,” he said, sighing deeply. “There were things that they did said that was right out laughable.” The claim to be that woman's boyfriend would be at the top of the list. But despite of knowing better, Thomas still had doubts about some of the aspects in the story his Master told him.

“And yet,” he went on saying. “There is something about them, what they said, at least part of it, that I can't flat out reject as gibberish.” Kailee didn't comment, just staring at him; as if she was calculating how much, or whatever to tell him anything at all. It was enough to have Thomas wonder if perhaps she knew more then she let on.

“What are you going to do about it?” She finally asked. And wasn't that the big question?

“I don't know,” Thomas replied. “I'm not even sure if I should do anything about it.”

“Well, whatever you do,” Kailee said, collecting his cup and put it back on the tray. “Be careful.”

“I promise. Again, thank you for the tea.” He received a shy smile from her before she left, leaving him once more alone with his treacherous mind. **If they are such a pain in the ass, we can always just kill them,** the beast growled. Thomas sigh, turning on the bed.

“Somehow, I don't think it's gonna be that easy.” _Besides, I have this horrible feeling I would never forgive myself if I ever did_. Shutting his eyes Thomas soon fell into a fitful sleep.

 

While collecting the papers on the floor, his phone sudden rang. Frowning at the number, Eric answered. “Yes?”

**“Sire.”**

“Ah, Barron. It's rater late, don't you think?”

 **“I apologize, sire. But we believe we found something.”** Eric's annoyance immediately faltered.

“You found the sword?”

**“Not yet, sire. But with the third key, thanks to your grimm's effort, in our disposal, we manage to find a clue to where, perhaps, the sword might be.”**

“Where?”

**“Southwest Germany. A place called the Black Forest. I can take a couple of men with me, tonight. If thats your order, sire.”**

“No,” Eric quickly dismissed the suggestion. This matter was too important to let other people handle. “I can't trust some idiots to handle such an important mission on their own. I will come with.”

**“As you wish, sire. Should I sent a car for you to pick you up, then?”**

“Yes, but not tonight. I want the plane to be ready to take off the first thing tomorrow morning.”

 **“Of course, sire.”** Eric disconnected the call, a smile gracing his lips. Leaving the office for an early night sleep Eric notify on of the maidens to wake him up at dawn with breakfast ready. As he were about to leave, however, he notice one of the younger servants, Kailee he believes her name was, walked out from the grimm's room. Frowning he approached her.

“What business did you have with Thomas this evening, miss?” Surprised by her Masters appearance, Kailee almost drop the tray in her hands.

“W-well, you see, Master. Sir Thomas felt a bit restless this evening. I thought some tea might help calm his nerves.” She said, the tray slightly shaking in her hands. Eric cast a glance at the door before him.

“What was he worried about?” He asked. It would be no good to him having the grimm questioning himself. Not now when Eric was finally so close achieving his goal.

“I believe it had something to do with the group of people who came and visit you earlier, sir.”

“Did he tell you what, exactly, he was concerned about?” Kailee hesitate for a moment. Her earlier conversation with Thomas felt rather personal. It would be a breach of trust of she told their Master, wouldn't it? _But if he finds out that I lie to him about it..._

“N-no, sir. I'm sorry, but he didn't tell me anything. Only that he was a bit shaken up and wish to have something warm to drink.” She finally said. The thought of loosing Thomas thrust in her was far more terrifying than whatever punishment her Master might judge upon her.

“I see. Well, then. You may leave now.”

“Of course, sir.” And with a quick bow she hasty left; scared half to death that he might find out about her treachery and kill her. Besides, Thomas wasn't the only one having suspicions. Kailee did, too. Thomas had only been working at the estate for a couple of moths, and yet did their Master order them all to treat him as if he'd been a part of the family for years. No. Something strange was definitely going on. And somehow, Thomas was right in the middle of it - probably alone. Kailee shook her head. _Not alone_ , she thought, firmly. _He got me._

 

Imprisoned in a metal cage, armed with a simple shield and his fists, Thomas found himself surrounded by wesens – shouting and screaming. His opponent was a Skalenzahne, a nasty son of a bitch.

“Kill him! Kill him!” The roar of the crowd grew louder and louder. Thomas grit his teeth, the shield firmly in his hands. _This is not good,_ he thought bitterly. Skalenzahne are viciously in nature, and by the look of things, this one - Demitri, was no exception.

“You are crazy, Nick.” The grimm didn't disagree. This surely wasn't one of his best of ideas, but it was the only one he was left with consider the situation. He couldn't just stand by and see his friend being beaten to death without at least trying do something about it. After all, it was his fault they were in this situation to begin with.

The fight was all about wild brutality. Instinct against the will to survive. The shields clashing against each other with raw force and superhuman strength. A rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins, heightened his senses and with it, his power. Attacks after attacks were unleashed upon him; some he managed to dodge with little to none effort and some he were not. As the fight went on, so did the roars and shouts outside the cage. The screams so loud now that he could barely hear anything else.

An opening was sudden prevented itself and Thomas immediately took it. With his shield in his hands he launched forward and smashed it against the Skalenzahne head. The Skalenzahne dropped instantly to the ground with a thud. In quick session Thomas reached for the discarded sword by his side and attacked; the blade pointed against the Skalenzahne throat, pressing but not hard enough to cut skin.

“I'm not your enemy. I don't want to kill you.” He said, hoping to get through to the other man. A flash of a shadow rushed passed the corner of his eyes. Before Thomas was able to react the blutbad was beside him, halting the other wesen's attack against him with a solid hit to the face with his shield.

“What happened to a fair fight!” Knocking the Skalenzahne with a hard punch to the face, Thomas stood up. Back against back with the blutbad. “Hey, Nick. I just wanna say... thank you for saving my life back there.”

“Yeah. I don't know how long that is gonna last.” And really, he didn't, but Thomas knew he would have no one else by his side at the moment.

“Here they come.”

“Bring it on!” He shouted, gripping the word in his hand tightly.

“Don't say that!” The blutbad yelped. Then, as they prepared themselves for the battle of their lives, the light of sirens were suddenly seen from the windows. Men in uniform bursting inside, shouting and order everyone to lay down on the ground. Thomas saw his chance and pushed the blutbad to the side – telling him to get out of here. The man quickly did and Thomas was left standing in the ring on his own. As he turned to greet his backup Thomas was instantly met by dark eyes of none other than Sean Renard.

 

Thomas woke up, groaning as he was blinded by the sunlight streaming in from the large windows. His head pounded painfully behind his eyes. The dream he had, still fresh in his mind, confused him. It made no sense, and yet he couldn't deny the taste of truth in what he'd seen. The betrayal in the blutbad's eyes at the office yesterday evening had felt too real to be a simple act. And now this dream, about them fighting together, protecting each other like brothers in arms. Groaning Thomas ran a hand through his untamed hair. Really, it made no sense.

Leaving the bed Thomas entered the one suite, splashing his face with some cool water. Staring into the mirror, his own reflection pale and tired, reflected back on him. Sighting Thomas opened the cabinet, taking the bottle of pills and popped a tablet in his mouth and swallowed with a handful of water. There was a soft knock on the door, then shortly after one of the maidens entered.

“Good morning, sir. Breakfast is ready for you downstairs.” She said. Thomas thanked her.

“Will Master be joining me at the table?” Thomas asked, pulling a fresh shirt over his head. He'd had a few more questions to ask him about yesterday's event.

“Unfortunately Master Eric won't be able to do so, sir. Apparently something urgent came up which demands his presence immediately.” Thomas frowned. He hadn't heard anything about this.

Quickly jumping into his trousers Thomas excused himself. If he was lucky he'd be able to catch up with his Master before he departed. As he reached the stairs Thomas saw him standing by the door about to leave.

“Master.” He called out, catching the man's attention.

“Ah, Thomas. I feared for a moment that I wouldn't be able to speak with you before I left.”

“Where are you going, sir?” Thomas asked, joining him by the door. “Has something happened?”

“Perhaps.” Eric replied, putting his coat on. “There has been some development; a new lead in my search for a very important artifact.” Thomas only knew little about the said object. His Master was rather secretive about the whole affair, only sharing when necessary. All Thomas knew was that it was some kind of sword. A weapon that was most dear to his Master and therefore wish to obtain it for himself. And apparently had so for quite some time. Thomas did long suspect it was the reason to why he'd been insisting on Thomas learned how to fight with a sword in the first place. Thomas had however been unable to confirm his theory.

“Will you be gone for long, sir?”

“Not more than a couple of days, a week at most.” Thomas nodded, helping his Master with the luggage. “I'll call you if I need anything,” Eric said, taking a seat at the back of the car. “I also expected you to keep up with your training, Thomas. I don't want you to slack off while I'm away. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir.” Thomas promised, already planning an early session to relieve some of the tension he seem to have picked up since the dream he'd had this morning.

“Good.” Thomas was about to wish the man a nice flight when he was interrupted. “Thomas, before I leave…” Eric said, looking at the grimm intensely. “I'm sorry about what happened last night. It was never my intention to upset you the way it did.” Thomas was about to speak up, but was once again cut off. “I talked to Kailee before I went to bed. She told me you were upset and in need of some tea to calm down. Does that happen often, anxiety, that is?”

“No, sir. Not often enough to be alarmed about it,” Thomas replied, honestly. _But it's more than I can say about my mental state._

“I see. I'm glad to hear that. If there is any trouble with your health, please don't hesitate to speak to the house doctor.” As if Thomas could tell him - or anyone else for the matter, about his growing insanity. They would lock him inside of a mental institution and throw away the key.

With a quick goodbye, Thomas shut the door; watching with mixed emotions as the car disappeared down the road. **Perhaps,** the beast growled. **This is your chance to get some answers.**

“Maybe,” Thomas said, returning back inside. His head still aching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone figured out what episode the “dream” was from? 
> 
> I admit I didn't see Sean Renard with the back-up team in the episode but I thought it would be a nice touch to the story.
> 
> Also, I felt having Kailee show similar protectiveness towards Nick as Sean did, would add to her character and strengthening her friendship with Nick. In a way. 
> 
> Please do tell me what you thought about the chapter. Love to hear from you <3  
> Much love Nicole.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunching down on his knees in front of the body Renard instantly became aware of the lack of blood at the scene. The man did get his head decapitated - surely there should be blood spatter on the walls and floor. Looking around the room Renard saw none of it. The only visible blood was that on the man's clothes and the pool on the floor surrounding the victim's body.
> 
> “Wu, are you sure this is where the victim was killed?”
> 
> “Well, yes. None of the other offices were opened at the time we got here. Nor did we found any trace of blood or damage to suggest he was killed elsewhere.” Strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a gift to NightTears. A little "thank you" for the sweet comment you wrote me. I hope you will like it as much as the previous one <3

**Chapter Twelve**

“I can't believe Nick would do such a thing,” Rosalee said, opening the first aid kit placed on the desk before her. “Especially to the two of you.” She added, carefully cleaning the cut on Monroe's cheek.

“It wasn't Nick,” Monroe said, hissing slightly as his wound was treated. “Yes. It was Nick, flesh and blood, but it wasn't him mentally. Well, that's not exactly right either. His power and spirit was still the same. His instinct to protect, too. Just, you know. The wrong person.”

“My brother did something to him to alter his memories somehow,” Renard cut in. He'd been rather quiet since they arrived to the spice shop. Rosalee had taken one quick look at them before she'd rushed them inside to tend to their injuries. She'd Juliette first, cleaning then bandage her hand gently as the vet told her what had happened and whom had inflicted their wounds.

“I still can't believe it. He honestly didn't remember any of you?”

“No. To him we were all strangers, the enemy.” Juliette whispered sadly, her heart aching more than her bleeding hand. Neither of them comment or elaborate; each too deep in thoughts and obvious concern. The silence stretched on and lingered. The only sound in the room was that of the clock ticking from the wall. The air was thick and the atmosphere tense enough to cut through. It was suffocating.

“It's late,” Renard spoke up. “I suggest we all get some sleep. It's been a long day.” Sighing he reached for his jacket. Exhaustion creeping upon him. “Then tomorrow, we will figure out what to do.”

“You honestly believe there is a way to get Nick back?” Juliette asked, struggling to keep her hope up. Renard felt rage towards the women; how easily she could abandoned the man she was suppose to love! But then he saw her hand - dressed in fresh bandage and Renard forced his anger aside.

“Yes; I do,” he replied, firmly. “And even if Nick might not regain his memories about us, he is still our friend. I don't know about you, but I for one am not going to abandon him to the likes of my brother. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“That makes the two of us,” Monroe growled. His eyes glowing red with determination and devotion to his friend. Rosalee was eager to agree.

“If Eric thinks that we will let Nick be, then he is gravely mistaken.” Juliette bit her lip, remaining in silence. It made Renard's rage resurface once more and it was only his firm self-control that prevented him from lashing out at her.

Angered Renard walked towards the door. _If this is the extension of your love for Nick_ , he thought, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. _Then you don't deserve him._

 

Early next morning Renard was woken up by Wu calling him on his phone. Another body had been found at an old office building outside of town.

“And the victim's head is missing,” Wu finished saying. Sighting Renard sat up, tiredly running his hand through his messy hair.

“I'll be here in half an hour,” Renard replied, disconnecting the call. Last night he'd accidentally fallen asleep on the sofa after a glass or two of whiskey. The encounter with his brother, and then the mess with Nick, had really taken a toll on him, mentally. Groaning he left the sofa and quickly made himself presentable. He'd had work to do.

The drive took about 20 minutes and Renard was instantly greeted by Wu, who seconds before had been busy chatting with another cop. _First one arriving at the crime scene, most likely._ Shutting the engine off Renard left the car.

“Good morning, sir. It's more then what can be said about our vic, tho.”

“What do we got?” Renard asked, getting straight to the point. Noticing the man's bad temper, Wu quickly summit what they'd have so far.

“His name is Adam Jason, 42 years old. Unmarried and no kids. Occupation - researcher of some sort. We're still going through the stuff in his office.” Renard listening closely to what's being said as Wu walked him down to the crime scene. On the way over, however, Renard halted.

A single scratch mark, sharp and thin, ran alongside them and further down the hallway. Frowning Renard bend down, running his fingers over the cut. It sparked something at the back of his mind. As if his subconscious tried to tell him something very important. Unfortunately, Renard had no idea what that might be.

“Sir?”

“This cut,” he said. “Did any of the employees know anything about it?”

“Um…No, sir,” Wu said as he quickly looked over his notes. “Neither of the staff mentioned anything about it in their statements. Why? Do you think it's important to the case?”

“Well, the victim is missing his head. It's worth taking notice of the mark consider its made by something sharp enough to cut through concrete. Don't you agree?” Standing up, Renard brushed the dirt off his trousers. “Have the forensic team document it for later observations.” _It might be nothing but my instinct is telling me otherwise_.

Nodding Wu made a note in his pad. “Of course, sir.”

Reaching the office Renard immediately spotted the damage door on the floor. _Whoever did this has one hell of a kick_ , Renard mused as he entered the room. The victim was down at the floor, back against the wall in upright position. The man was dressed in jeans, a plain shirt and a poorly fitted jacket. _Low income_ , Renard thought. _Or extremely bad fashion sense_. Hunching down on his knees in front of the body Renard instantly became aware of the lack of blood at the scene. The man _did_ get his head decapitated - surely there should be blood spatter on the walls and floor. Looking around the room Renard saw none of it. The only visible blood was that on the man's clothes and the pool on the floor surrounding the victim's body.

“Wu, are you sure this is where the victim was killed?”

“Well, yes. None of the other offices were opened at the time we got here. Nor did we found any trace of blood or damage to suggest he was killed elsewhere.” _Strange._

“Have we been able to estimate the time of death?”

“Unfortunately not. The coroner has not yet arrived, sir. Hopefully we will know more once the autopsy is done.” Renard sigh. There was nothing else he could do at this point in the investigation, but to wait.

“Alright then,” he said, walking towards the exit. “I want to be informed as soon as the corner has examine him.”

“Yes, sir.” As Renard walked pass the scraping on the floor he was once again overcome with the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he was missing something of great importance. But what? Shaking his head, frustrated by the elusive answer, Renard began his journey back to the precinct.

 

By lunch Wu informed him that the victim had been killed between 18.00- 22.00p.m yesterday. And as usual, no physical evidence was left behind. A clean cut, so to speak. Not that Renard was expecting any different. Whoever did this clearly knew what he was doing. Speaking of cut.

“What about the scratch mark on the floor? Anything new?”

“Not really. The people we interviewed pretty much said the same thing. ‘I don't know how it got there’ or ‘I don't know anything about it.’ If you ask me, it's quite a coincidence that none of them knows _anything_ about it, despite of them all been working there for the last 2 years.”

“Are you saying they are hiding something?” Wu gave a roll on his shoulder.

“Maybe. Or too scared to talk.”

“Plausible, but scared of what? The killer?”

“Well. It's not the first time a witness has been too scared to come forward,” Wu suggested. Frowning Renard studied the case file before him.

“Have the murder weapon been identified yet?”

“All we have to go in is - and I quote: ‘A sharp mother fucking blade’. And I agree with the corner on his assessment. A blade sharp enough to cut through bone and tissue in one single cut is bound to be bad-ass.”

“Our killer manage to decapitated our victim's head in one single blow?”

“Yeah. That's why there was so little bloodstain at the crime scene. The cut was so precise and swift that the victim was already dead before the body react and start to bleed.”

“That's… damn impressive.” _Are we dealing with rippers? Surely not, but…_ Looking down at the photo of their victim. _It would explain the murder weapon as well as the killers M.O by cutting their head off._ Renard's frown deepened. _But why these people? They were hardly grimms and I've heard nothing about a loose ripper running around in the city_.

“Excuse me, Wu. But I have a phone call to make.”

“Sure.” Excusing himself Wu exit the office. Swiftly dialing the number Renard put the phone to his ear, waiting. The man answered on the second ring.

**“Hello?”**

“It's me,” Renard said, turning the blinds down. “I need you to look into something for me.”

**“Of course, sir.”**

“There has been a few killings in my city and it looks like the work of rippers, but it makes no sense since Nick is not even here at the moment.” The fact that Eric was currently in possession of the grimm was enough to have Renard grit his teeth. “I want you to look into it and see what you can find out.”

 **“Understood. I'll take the first train to Portland.”** Renard let out a deep sigh. Grateful for the help.

“Thank you, Meisner. I appreciate your help.”

 **“It's my pleasure. I'll call you as soon as I've arrived,”** the man replied, then hanged up. Exhausted Renard sank down in his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He felt somewhat relieved to know he'd had a pair of extra hands in this, but despite being hopeful, Renard couldn't ignore his gut instinct telling him that they were dealing with something far more dangerous than rippers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think? 
> 
> Please do tell me what you thought about the chapter. Love to hear from you <3  
> Much love Nicole.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thats strange,” he said and walked towards the window. “I could have sworn it was shut this morning.” Unless... Rapidly Renard pulled his gun out, turning and ready to fire. With his fingers tightly around the gun Renard casually searched the room. Nothing appeared to be stolen, at least from what he could tell straight away. “If you are still in here I suggest you come forward. I'm armed and I wont hesitate to shot.” No response. “I don't know if I should commend you for your bravery for breaking into the house of the Captain of Portland PD or pity you for your stupidity.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Renard felt the unmistakable touch of cold steal against his throat.  
> “Leaving you back wide open for an attack is hardly the cleaver thing to do either.” Renard cursed. Well, shit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, next chapter is up and I hope you will like it.

**Chapter Thirteen**

Lost in thought Thomas flipped the page of the book to the next. He'd been sitting in the library for the last hour and half, trying to keeping himself from doing something stupid. "Perhaps this is your chance to get some answers" – the words of the beast still lingering at the back of his mind.

“I'm not going to disobey my master's orders,” he said aloud. Hoping by speaking it out loud would somehow help him from giving into temptation. “I will not.” **Technically, you are not going against any order** , the beast growled. **His orders were to not slack off with your training. He said nothing about staying away from them.** Thomas stayed quiet, turning yet a page from the book he hardly knew anything about, his thoughts been elsewhere the entire time. **You just going to ignore it? You know just as much as I do there is something quite not right about all this.**

Sighing Thomas threw the book at the table. No point in reading it anyway. Torn and conflicted about what to do and not to do. The beast did have a point – an important one at that, too. There is _something_ going on, Thomas was sure of it. He simple didn't know what that something might be. Tilting his head back Thomas shut his eyes. The memory of Sean's facial expression – his _behavior_ from the night before, did not match the act of a cold blooded criminal. _In fact, he seemed rather concerned for me_ , Thomas mussed. _But why?_ Fluttering his eyes open Thomas found his gaze drifting towards the desk. The laptop, to be more precisely. **There is only one way to find out.** Cursing Thomas stood up and reached for the laptop.

“This will not end well,” he said, typing the name then hit search. “Not well at all...”

About half an hour later Thomas shut the laptop off, already founding what he was looking for. “Now what?” he asked aloud. **You know what,** the beast replied back. “Yeah, I know,” Thomas sighed. “But I was hoping you would talk me out off it.” **Sorry, not gonna happen.** Chuckling Thomas left the room and continued downstairs. “I thought as much.” Stepping outside, the sun were still high on the sky. Fishing his keys out Thomas put the helmet on and start the bike. The ride was estimated to take about 4 hours. _Plenty of time to reconsider,_ Thomas thought. **But you won't,** the beast smirked. Shaking his head in disbelief, a smile twisting his lips.

“You are right,” he said, driving down the road and pass the gates. “I won't.

 

Parking the bike a bit further down the road Thomas killed the engine. The building had been surprisingly easy to find. To get in however, not so easy. Thomas quickly scanned the area. The security was tight. A single guard stood by the front door, probably armed and security cameras strategically situated at all corners of the house - covering the ground perfectly. One could argue that the president himself was a resident. Walking pass the entrance, greeting the guard with a smile as he did, but never close enough to get caught on tape, Thomas discreetly looked over the residence-list visible by the door. _Bingo!_ Smirking Thomas kept walking, keeping his head down the whole time.

“Well then, how to get inside?” Doing a quick look-over Thomas assessed his next course of action. At first glance the task really did look impossible, but then... Thomas sudden burst out laughing. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Thomas said, amusement bubbling up from the inside. Before him stood a large oak tree, branches solid and sturdy. And luckily for Thomas high enough to reach the fifth floor. “Remind me to send the gardener my regards.” Chuckling he approached the tree, stretching his hands up high to grab hold of one of the branches. With his fingers tightly secured around the wood Thomas gracefully pulled himself up. Reaching for the next branch and pushing with his legs, Thomas soon reached the fifth floor.

With little ease Thomas picked the window open; climbed inside and landed quietly on the wooden floor. Holding his breath, listening. No sound was made. The apartment was dark and lifeless – no one was home, as predicted. Rumors had it that the Captain of Portland PD, for some reason, did spend long hours down at the precinct as of lately. Smirking Thomas stepped into the living room. As for the address? With a bit of time and effort there was nothing you couldn't find on the Internet these days.

As Thomas passed the threshold a vivid image of Sean, trapped to a chair, blooded and bruised suddenly flashed before his eyes. Dizzy and nausea Thomas leaned on the wall for support. Squeezing his eyes shut Tomas breathed deeply. Overwhelmed by his sensory sudden being overloaded. Patiently he stood there, waiting till the sickness settled. As he reopened his eyes the scene before him vanished and the room was once more empty and dark. As if nothing had ever happened. _But it did happened,_ Thomas muttered.

Pushing himself forward Thomas soon walked among the furnitures and paintings, books and pictures – trying to get a grasp of the man who lived here. To find some answers to his unease and the images he kept seeing. And why it all seems to be connected to the man who tried to kill him; the same man to whom Thomas felt an unexplained awe and respect towards, despite not earning Thomas affection in the first place.

Stumbling over a few photos on a shelf Thomas halted; his attention and curiosity captured by one photo in particular. Slowly Thomas reached out and picked the frame up, inspecting it closer. The photo was taken outside the precinct sometime in spring. Sean was dressed in his uniform, standing proud and strong. _He looks rather handsome,_ he mussed. But it wasn't the Captain that caught his attention, but rather the man standing further in the back. A dark skinned man, dark short hair and nicely trimmed mustache and goatee beard. His eyes deep brown and sparked a sense of loyalty and safety in the pit of Thomas stomach. Frowning Thomas studied the man for a bit longer. The familiarity growing as he kept watched the photo of the stranger. His eyes narrowed.

“But you're no stranger, are you?” Thomas asked aloud. Gently putting the frame back while rubbing his forehead with his fingers. The tell-tail sign of a headache showing. However, as Thomas was about to reach into his jacket pocket for his medicine, he was sudden interrupted by the sound of keys. Cursing Thomas swiftly went into hiding. Plastering himself against the wall behind the door Thomas held his breath. Then, he waited.

 

Exhausted Renard dragged his feet towards the front door, keys jingling in his hand. Unlocking the door on autopilot Renard stepped inside, throwing his jacket and suitcase at the kitchen counter. Today had been a hell of a day. The case was going nowhere and honestly, Renard doubt they would even be able to crack it in a near future, if ever.

Serving himself a glass of water Renard mulled the case over in his head. If it really was a ripper responsible for the series of killings lately, then there were no doubts in Sean's mind that more bodies would drop. Sighting Renard placed the now empty glass on the counter. The absent of Nick was a lingering thing all time around, but the void the detective left behind was especially noticeable down at the office. The other detectives had shown concern – and still do, at the news of his disappearance. Many had openly offered to stay behind at work to push the investigation forward, to which Renard had felt nothing but proud for his detectives loyalty and camaraderie. However, if they were to see the kind Nick they all knew, threatening his friends and harming the woman he loves, surely they would be appalled. _As would I did I not been too busy ogling him_ , Renard thought shamefully. _To my defense, Nick did look dame hot in leather._ Shaking his head in disbelief Renard pushed the thought aside. This was not the time to ponder over any sexual urge he happens to have for the grimm.

Bringing the bottle of whiskey with him Renard relocate to the living room where he, much to his surprise, found the window open. Frowning Renard placed the liquor on the desk.

“Thats strange,” he said and walked towards the window. “I could have sworn it was shut this morning.” Unless... Rapidly Renard pulled his gun out, turning and ready to fire. With his fingers tightly around the gun Renard casually looked around the room. Nothing appeared to be stolen, at least from what he could tell.

“If you are still in here I suggest you come forward. I'm armed and I won't hesitate to shot.” No response. “I don't know if I should commend you for your bravery for breaking into the home of the Captain of Portland PD or pity you for your stupidity.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Renard felt the unmistakable touch of cold steel against his throat.

“Leaving you back wide open for an attack is not that clever thing to do either.” Renard cursed. _Well, shit..._

 

The sound of heavy footsteps told Thomas that the man was currently on his way to the kitchen. Seconds later, water was poured. Keeping his breathing steady Thomas mulled over his options. He could either attack the man and leave, or, he could hope Sean went straight to bed and be none the wiser of the intrusion. Picking up the unmistakable sound of steps approached the living room Thomas pushed himself closer to the wall, holding his breath.

Behind the door Thomas then heard Sean speaking. Thomas frowned. _I only picked up the sound of a single heartbeat when the door opened._ Focusing on his hearing Thomas recheck, and yes, there it was – the steady sound of the man's heartbeat. There were no one else in the apartment besides Sean and himself. Frown deepen Thomas peeking behind the door. He was immediately greeted by the wide back of the Captain, strolling towards the window. Realizing his error Thomas mentally cursed. He'd forgotten to secure the window after himself. _Great,_ Thomas swore. _Now what?_ The answer soon presented itself when the Captain swiftly turned around with his gun drawn. _So much for stealth_ , Thomas mused as his hand reached for one of the smaller blades strapped to his leg. The sword he'd been gifted with by his master was left behind at the mansion. Walking around with a sword in the middle of the city would drawn too much of unnecessary attention after all...

“If you are still in here I suggest you come forward. I'm armed and I won't hesitate to shot.” Thomas smirked. _You can threaten me with your gun all you want, it still won't do you any good._ “I don't know if I should commend you for your bravery for breaking into the house of the Captain of Portland PD or pity you for your stupidity.” Thomas bit his lip hard to keep himself from laughing out loud. The man sure had a sense of humor. Who would have thought? Keeping a close watch Thomas observed the man as he carefully walked the room. The only way Thomas saw this scenario going down was with his knife firmly against the older man's throat. The real question, however, was whatever or not to leave Sean alive.

Thomas watched as the Captain turned his back against the door. _It certainly wouldn't be too hard to kill him._ But dead men don't talk and Thomas came here for a reason. Sighing Thomas made up his mind. Quickly and without a sound Thomas drew his blade. It was time to get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, love to hear your thoughts and read your sweet comments <3


	15. Chapter  Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can deny all you want, Nick, but deep down you know I am telling you the truth.” Thomas stood frozen by the door, his hand on the handle ready to leave. But once again Thomas was unable to do so. “Nick, I am not asking you to trust me, but you have to admit things isn't adding up. If you truly believed my brother was telling you the truth, then why did you even come here in the first place?”  
> Without a word Thomas shut the door behind him and left. Sighting Renard watched powerless as the detective departed. Prying it wouldn't be for the last time. 
> 
> “I'm going to need a bigger glass,” he said to himself as he returned to the living room where the bottle of whiskey was waiting for him at the table.

**Chapter Fourteen**

Renard stood frozen, the gun still in his hands but useless. One move from his part and the intruder behind him would undoubtedly finish him off, or harm him to show who was in charge. In either way, Renard had no intention to act reckless. At least not for a second time.

“Leaving you back wide open for an attack is hardly clever either.” The intruder amusedly replied. Renard felt the air rush out of him. It can't be, and yet, there is no mistaken that voice. “I'm not here to kill you.” _God knows how many opportunities I'd have already,_ Thomas mused. “I'll put the knife down, but if you try anything I won't hesitate to cut you down. Have I made myself clear?”

Carefully Renard nod his head in understanding. Thomas knew he was taking a huge risk by removing his weapon, but his instinct told him he would be fine. Despite what the man had done to him – harm him in such a brutal way, Thomas couldn't ignore what he'd seen in master Eric's office. This man, whatever their relationship might be, cared for him. _Besides, if he tries anything, I'll have a reason to kill him_. Lower his knife Thomas stepped back, distance himself far enough to keep himself safe.

The moment Renard was free from the knife he immediately turned around. Even if what he saw was right before him Renard could still not believe his own eyes.

“Nick?” Lowering his gun Renard watched the grimm in front of him with open disbelief. “What are you doing here?” Ignoring being called by the wrong name, as well as the question, Thomas marched over to the couch and sat down.

“Rough day?” He asked instead, his eyes darting to the bottle at the table.

“More like rough couple of months,” Renard replied. Deciding to give the man the benefit of a doubt Renard took a seat as well. “Why are you here, Nick?” The grimm's purpose in coming here still lost to him. If Nick was here to kill him surely he would already have done so. Realizing, no matter the reason behind his visit, it was a chance for Renard to convince the young detective to come back home. As Renard were about so say as much he was rudely interrupted.

“My name is Thomas, not Nick. Get it right or don't even bother speaking any name at all.” Struggling to keep the urge to shake some sense into the other man Renard took a calming breath. Frustration would lead nowhere. “To answer your question I'm here to ask a few question of my own. “

“Question, what kind of question?” Leaning forward Thomas meet the stare head on. He was determined to get what he came here for.

“To starter with you can tell me who the man in the photo is,” Thomas said. The sense of familiarity still nagging him at the back of his mind. Frowning Renard turned to look at what photo Nick was referring to.

“Whom? Hank?” Renard would lie if he said he wasn't surprised, but if it was the memory of Hank who would bring Nick back to him, well, then so be it. “He is your partner,” he finally said. Thomas couldn't mask his shock at the answer.

“My partner? You mean, as in romantically?” Renard chuckled. _Wait till I tell Hank about this._

“No. As in work partner,” he explained, humor evident in his voice.

“Then, he is a detective?”

“You both are. Exceptionally good, too.”

“I came here for answers, not listening to your lies,” Thomas said harshly. Sighing Renard pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn't going anywhere.

“I'm not lying, but I understand your hesitation to trust me. I don't know what my brother told you about me, but whatever it is, it's not true. My brother only cares for himself. To him you are only a pawn.”

“Watch your tongue,” Thomas hissed angry. Thomas might have disrespect his master by coming here, but allowing this man to speaking ill about his master was something else entirely. “You might be brothers, but I won't allow anyone to taint his name.”

“How long have you been living with him? 4 month now? Surely you are not blind to his brutality.” Thomas felt the need to justify his master's actions, but even he could not deny the cruel nature the man carries inside himself.

“He might not be a saint, but I do rather serve a master who offers me a roof over my head and food on the table then being ruled by a bastard son who beats someone unconscious and leaves them to die in the middle of nowhere.”

“Excuse me?” Renard asked, confused. The hate Nick harbored towards him was a mystery. He'd felt it the moment the grimm walked inside his brother's office and every since.

“Don't play dumb,” Thomas spat. “You know exactly what I am talking about.” Renard felt his frown deepened.

“I honestly don't. Why won't you tell me what it is I have supposedly done to you.” _Perhaps it will help me to reach him if I know what is going on._ “Tell me, please.” Disconcerted Thomas watched the man before him. For what reason did he have to tell Sean anything? Surely he knows perfectly well what transparent that night. The fact that the man – his _attacker_ treated him with such arrogance by questioning him about it made Thomas see red.

“You sit there, telling me how cruel and dishonest my master is,” he says, his voice low and cold. “Preaching about how I am nothing but a cheap tool in my master's hands. As if you would treat me any better. The man who attacked him, beaten him unconscious and left me to die.” Thomas tells him furiously. “Its because of you – of what you did to me, that I no longer can remember anything from my life before waking up at a hospital bed months ago. A cruelty of its own, wouldn't you agree? So tell me, Sean. What am I to you, huh?” 

Renard's head was spinning. The story Nick told him was ridiculous. He would never harm his detective, but, Renard realize, it wouldn't be underneath Eric to spin such a twisted lie for his own purposes. The sly bastard would do anything to get what he want.

“It was a mistake for me to come here,” Thomas said, abruptly standing up. “I was a fool to think you could be of any help to me. Don't worry, I will find myself out.”

“No! Wait, please.” Under normal circumstances Renard would have been ashamed for his display of desperation, but he couldn't care less when all that really mattered was Nick. To keep him here, just for a little while longer. “I didn't mean to insult you, but I won't lie or pretend that I regard my brother with love or respect, because I don't.” He said truthfully. Then, relieved that Nick hadn't yet left Renard took a leap of faith.

“You asked me earlier what you are to me and I can honestly say that you are very important. Not as a grimm, but as the man you are. You remark earlier about the bottle of alcohol on my table; you ever wonder why I brought it out in the first place?” Thomas didn't replied. Honestly, why was he even still here? “I drink to numb my concern. I lost someone a few months back. I searching high and low to find him.”

“Did you?” Thomas found himself asking. “Find him, that is.”

“Yes. I found him.”

“But if you found him, why do you still drink, then?”

“Because when I found him I learned that my brother has manage to twist his mind and made him his own personal lapdog.” Realization was drawn and Thomas felt rage for the man's continues lies, but foremost, Thomas felt a rush of unease and slight fear. After all, what if what Sean said was true?

“We are done,” he said, marching towards the front door. Rapidly approaching footsteps followed him from the living room.

“You can deny all you want, Nick, but deep down you know I am telling you the truth.” Thomas stood frozen by the door, his hand on the handle ready to leave. But once again Thomas was unable to do so. “Nick, I am not asking you to trust me, but you have to admit things isn't adding up. If you truly believed my brother was telling you the truth, then why did you even come here in the first place?”

Without a word Thomas shut the door behind him and left. Sighting Renard watched powerless as the detective departed. Prying it wouldn't be for the last time.

“I'm going to need a bigger glass,” he said to himself as he returned to the living room where the bottle of whiskey was waiting for him at the table.

 

It was later once Thomas returned to the castle. He was tired, confused and mad, but most of all – he was _starving_. He'd not eaten since he left approximate eight hours ago. Silently Thomas made his way to the kitchen. He might not be a master chef but he'd possessed enough skills to make himself a cheese and ham sandwiched. Quickly assemble a plate for himself Thomas made himself comfortable around the little table in the corner of the kitchen – the calmness and simplicity of the room in favor of the large and grand dining room upstairs. Absentminded Thomas shewed his food, staring at nothing in particular. _If you truly believed my brother was telling you the truth, then why did you even come here in the first place?_

Sighing Thomas swallowed down a mouthful of bread. Why indeed. When he left the castle earlier he was sure of himself, determined to get what he wanted. Answers. But, as Sean start to speak Thomas had begin to doubt. A feel of unease which kept growing more powerful the more the Captain spoke and by the end Thomas had felt almost desperate to get away from it; it being Sean, master Eric or his own twisted life, Thomas couldn't tell. In fact, it was much he couldn't tell of lately. Too many questions and far too little answers. _What if I have all the answers I need already, but too afraid to believe it?_

“No. This is exactly what master Eric warned me about. Sean is a dangerous man – lies and games is what he do best. I can't trust a word he says. I will just play right into his hands if I do,” he said aloud. About to take another bite of his sandwiched Thomas couldn't help himself. His mind running wild with speculations.  _Then again, he'd look genuinely confused when I mentioned the night in the forest. Why would he do that? Another trick or was it an honest reaction?_ Thomas putt the sandwiched back down at the plate, no longer hungry. Master Eric was right about one thing. As long as his memories were missing, he was at risk of betrayal. The question however... Betrayal to whom?

“Are you alright?” A soft spoken voice asked. Looking up Thomas was greeted by the sight of Kailee. The girl looked exhausted and Thomas couldn't help but to wonder why she was still doing up. It was awfully late. “You look tired,” she said, stepping inside of the kitchen. Thomas smirked.

“You took the words right out of my mouth. It's late, Kailee. Shouldn't you be in bed by now?”

“Couldn't sleep,” the girl replied, joining him at the table. Kailee was a sweet girl, it wasn't really in her nature to lie, but the dark rings under her eyes and barely contained yawing, however, told Thomas a different story. _She sat up waiting for me,_ he realize. Smiling he pushed the plate with the still remaining sandwiched towards her.

“Hungry?” He asked. She gladly took it.

“Where have you been?” She asked, taking a large bit of the sandwiched. “You have been gone for quite some time.” Thomas thought it over wherever or not to tell her the truth. Kailee had done nothing to rose any suspicion, but one could never be too careful, right?

“I was in Portland visiting Sean,” he finally said, deciding to be honest with her. To see what kind of reaction it would bring out from her. Carefully chewing her food Kailee studied him for a while, detecting nothing but honesty from the man.

“I see. For what reason?” Thomas was a bit surprise about her lay-back attitude about it. After all, he'd just admit to small treason. If their master were to learn about this there was no doubt Thomas would be in deep trouble.

“To get some answers, I guess.”

“And did you?” Thomas sighed. When he left to talk to Sean Thomas had been so sure it would help clear his mind about a few things, but all it did was to make him all that more confused.

“Only answers that raised more questions,” he replied. “Honestly, Kailee. I don't know what to believe anymore. According to Sean I use to work for him as a detective before master Eric, which is absurd since I have been here for years! And yet, when I was in his apartment, I found this photo of a man named Hank. I have no memories of him but I felt this _familiarity_ when I saw him.” Thomas chuckled. “It makes no sense, right. I'm obviously going crazy.” Kailee felt her couscous reminding her of the lie she, and everyone else in the castle, lived with every day. They were under no circumstances allowed to tell Thomas the truth about the fact that he had not been a resident here for more than a few months. The threat of a life long punishment for anyone who did was a very effective way to keep them all quiet. Still, despite the danger Kailee felt her resolve crumble at the sight of the grimm before her, struggling to make sense of it all. She felt bad for him. Thomas was a good man and didn't deserve whatever was happening to him. _But I can't tell him the truth_ , Kailee thought, feeling very much ashamed for her own cowardliness. The wrath of master Eric still too strong.

“I don't know,” Thomas continued. “Perhaps I should just let it be. To forget about Sean and the others all together and focus solely on serving master Eric.” Blinking Kailee returned her attention to the man. A slight panic rose in her chest at his declaration of giving up. Her instinct telling her that if Thomas indeed decided not to pursue his... relationship wasn't quite the right word, perhaps acquainted suited the situation better, with Sean and the others would be devastating for all parties. Well, everyone but their master.

“I wouldn't do that if I was you,” she advised. Kailee might not be able to tell Thomas the truth just yet, but she might help him discover the truth in other ways. “I mean, clearly you are upset about something. Perhaps talking with master Eric's brother – Sean, was it? Might help somewhat. You said talking to him only served to make you all the more confused, but was it because of what he said or how it made you feel?” Thomas frowned at her. It was a very good question actually. When Thomas left the apartment he'd felt an unease. Not because Sean implied his brother to be a liar, but because it scared him that Sean might be telling the truth. Master Eric, this castle, this _life_ was the only life Thomas knew about. This was all he had. Without it, who would he be then?

“You mentioned you recognized a man you saw on a photo,” Kailee went on.

“Um, well yes. Hank,” he said, drawn back to reality once more. “Sean explained that my familiarity towards him was because we were partners at work.”

“Perhaps you should talk to him. Meeting Hank in person might trigger some of your memories back, or it won't,” she quickly added. “Either way, I think it would do you some good.” Thomas didn't reply. The fact that she encouraged him, not only to continue to talk with Sean, but go and see Hank, too, made him once again questioning Kailee and whatever or not she knew more than she let on.

“Perhaps,” Thomas said, mulling the idea over in his head. “Master Eric is still away for a couple of days. There is no reason to rush.” Standing up Thomas took the now empty plate and put it in the dishwasher. “Thanks for the talk Kailee. It felt good to have someone to talk to.” Kailee smiled back at him, glad to have been able to keep Thomas away from giving up. “Anyway, I'm off to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

“Yeah. I'll. Good night, Thomas.”

“Good night, Kailee,” he replied and left to bed. His head aching painfully after today's events.

 _I'm sorry, Thomas, but this is all I can do for you,_ she thought as she watch him leave the kitchen. A lump growing in her throat. _At least for now…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Always, love to know your thoughts <3
> 
> Much love Nicole


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sighing heavily Hank took the stairs down to the lobby. He understood where Renard was coming from. As a Captain he'd had a responsibility to keep his detective's safe. As long as Hank was without a partner to back him up out on the field, he was at a risk of get seriously harmed, or even killed. Still, Hank had refused to hand in his request for a new partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is up! I hope you'll like it.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Hank throw his head back laughing aloud.

“You are kidding, right? He honestly said that?” Renard nod. He'd just told the detective about Nick and his, rather surprise visit, from yesterday evening. “Oh, man,” Hank mussed, drying the tears from laughing so hard. “I am almost heartbroken for missing it.” A small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Yes. Sean had found it rather amusing, too.

“Though, I do admit I am a bit chocked about his new sexual orientation. I have only heard Nick talking about Juliette. Even complimenting a random woman from time to time, but never really another bloke.”  _Except that one time he saw the Captain for the very first time..._ Hank grinned. 

Renard sighed heavily. He thought as much. As badly Renard might wish for Nick's grand talk about not fancy females to be true, Renard did not allow himself to get caught up at the idea of someday be able to woo the grimm for himself. Nick did have a relationship with Juliette before he got kidnapped and, no matter what occurred during the influence of whatever Eric did to him, Nick surely would love her once more the moment his memories returns to him. Hank's comment just prove Renards suspicions all along. He'd stand no chance with Nick to begin with. Better to give it all up while he still had the strength to do so. Or was it too late already?

“Does it make you happy, sir?” Blinking Renard looked at the man before him, confused.

“Does what makes me happy?”

“That Nick has turned team. It does make things a lot easier for you, does it not?” Renard frowned and deepened the more Hank talked. Had Hank been a lesser man he would have kept his mouth shut, but Hank was not a lesser man. Furthermore, for Nick's sake, Hank do rather clear things up now before it got too complicated to solve. “You care for him.”

“Of course I care for him,” Renard said. Choosing his words carefully. “He is my detective. I have a responsibility to look after him, as do I to all of you.”

“Maybe. But your care for Nick goes beyond that of an employee. Deeper than all the rest of us.” Renard was about to came up with a reasonable excuse for his behavior when he was effectively cut short by the other man. “You love him.” Hank deadpanned. He was in no mood for bullshit. Not with matters as important as this. “I have eyes, you know. I see the way you look at him.”

“Well, then. What else is there for me to say? You seem to have figured everything out already,” Renard replied with a small edge to it. Embarrassed to have been caught ogling than anything else. He though he'd been so careful around his detectives. _Apparently not careful enough._

“So, you admit you are in love with him, then?” Hank pushed. He needed to hear Renard say it out loud. Not being interested in the same sex is fine, but not be able to stand up for his preferences in bed partner was something else entirely. If Sean truly were in love with Nick, Hank wouldn't stand for it if their Captain was too much of a coward to be out and proud. His partner deserved far too better then that.

Renard studied the detective for a while. Trying to figure out the motive behind the sudden interrogation. Sensing the hesitation Hank decided to give the man some slack.

“I'm not going to report you, sir. Nor am I going to mock you or disrespect you because of it. Nick is not just my work partner, but my friend. I simple need to know where you stand.” Sighting in relief Renard's shoulder instantly dropped and he relaxed once more. Grateful that there were no ill or bad terms between them. Besides, if there was, surely they would be able to come to some sort of agreement. After all, both of them obviously cared a great deal for their missing friend. And it was because of it, their mutual respect for Nick, that Sean felt confident enough to be honest with the man.

“You are right,” he said. “I do harbor a great deal of affection towards Nick. If that is love, I am not yet sure. But I can honestly say I have never felt anything this strongly toward anyone before.” Hank watched the man closely, than, detecting no sign of lies or dishonest, Hank greeted his Captain with a smile.

“Good,” he replied. Happy with the answer. “And I bet it felt good to see Juliette's face when Nick told her off in your brother's office.” Renard didn't even hesitate.

“Not just good,” he admit. “It felt awesome.” Hank chuckled, enjoying the spark of happiness in the Captain's eyes. It had been a long time since Hank had seen it. And frankly, it suited the man quite well.

“You think Nick will be visiting you again?” With a heavy sighed Renard leaned backwards in his chair, crossing his arms. Renard had asked himself the same question every since Nick left in such a hurry the evening before.

“I have no idea, Hank. He'd looked rather upset when he left. I do hope he does, but I fear he might not. God, Hank. What if he doesn't? What if my big mouth has caused us Nick for good?”

Hank had worked for Renard for years, known him a while longer, but he'd never seen the man act quite like this before. Under any other circumstances Hank would have found the situation highly amusing, but the situation was simply too grim to laugh at. Nick was still very much in danger after all.

“Don't worry, sir. He will.” Frowning Renard looked at him.

“How can you be so sure?” This earned Renard a frown of his own.

“Because it's Nick we are talking about. Even without his memories his instincts is first class. Deep down he knows something it's right. Why else did he came to you asking questions? It might take a while, but he will return. He is too much of a detective not to.” Renard ran his hand through his hair anxiously.

“I'd hope you're right, Hank,” he replied. Then, before much else could be said, Renard's phone sudden buzzed - effectively cutting their conversation short. “Sorry Hank, but it might be important.” _It's most certainly important_ , Renard thought as he caught a glimpse of the number on the display. “Perhaps we can continue this conversation another time?”

“Of course, sir,” Hank said, standing up. “I need to meet up with Wu anyway.” Receiving a quick thanks Hank left and shut the door behind him. Noticing the time Hank cursed. He were scheduled for coffee with Wu in five minutes.

Rushing towards his desk Hank collected his jacket, wallet and phone. As he were about to leave, however, his gaze landed at the empty desk opposite his own. A heavy sadness came over him and Hank was once again reminded of the absent of his partner. Nick being away had been hard on everyone who knew him. The grimm was well known around the block for his skills as a detective and being a good man. Hank should know. He'd been partner with the guy for five years. The first couple of days had been the worst. Exceeding the 48 hours timeline in a missing person case, with no trace to go on, had left many of them discouraged. The chance of finding the person dropped dramatically for each passing day. As weeks turned into month, they were all forced to face the horrible possibility that they might never find Nick, or catch the man responsible for the detective's disappearance.

Hank remember a particular dark day when Renard had pulled him aside; telling him he might need to consider applying for a new partner. Hank had been furious. Years Nick had been his partner, protect his back and making sure he'd return home sound and safe. You don't just walk away from that. No. Nick was his partner. And would remain as such until Nick was returned to them – dead or alive.

Sighing heavily Hank took the stairs down to the lobby. He understood where Renard was coming from. As a Captain he'd had a responsibility to keep his detective's safe. As long as Hank was without a partner to back him up out on the field, he was at a risk of get seriously harmed, or even killed. Still, Hank had refused to hand in his request for a new partner. It felt very much like giving up. Final, once and for all. Hank would never forgive himself if he did. Nick was too important to him. A sentiment he shared with his Captain. It was out of their mutual affection for the grimm that Hank were able to talk Renard into the idea of resigning him a temporary partner. Someone Hank would handpick himself. The Captain had allowed it. Much to Hank's relief. There was only one man fit for the job.

“Sorry I'm late,” Hank apologized. “I was in a meeting with the Captain and lost track of time.”

“Don't worry about it,” Wu said, taking a sip of his coffee. “There was plenty of coffee to keep me company.” Chuckling Hank removed his jacket and took a seat. “What did our fearless Captain have to say that was so darn interesting you forgot your own substitute-partner?”

“What do you think?” Snorting Wu put his coffee down.

“It's not much of a point guessing.”

“True,” Hank replied and made a quick order to a passing waiter.

“He do know he is pretty obvious, right? I mean, there is a reason to why there is a wager about him and our elusive detective going around at the precinct.” Hank hummed in response. If Wu only knew about the context of his conversation with the Captain, then, he'd had some serious money to collect. But it wasn't his place to tell. As far as Hank is concerned, each person were responsible for their own choices. No one else had the right to tell someone else how to live their life. Therefore, Hank refuse to spill the man's secret. Not that it was much of a secret to begin with.

“It's too bad Nick isn't around,” Wu said, looking down at his coffee. “It would improve the Captain's mood enormously. At the crime scene the other day? I was sure he would shew my head off.” Hank had not been at the crime scene himself, he'd been working at a different case at the time, but Wu had kept him posted nonetheless. Another victim whom was missing his head. If they didn't caught a break soon they were at risk of having a mild panic among the citizen. Such an outbreak would only hinder the investigation further. Their failure to solve this case only amplified the burden of Nick's absent. _God, I wish Nick was here,_ Hank thought, rubbing his head tiredly.

“Joke aside,” Wu said, grimly. “It's been months since he disappeared. I mean, I don't want to sound heartless - Nick is a good man, and he has my respect as a detective, but… _4 months_. Surely we should have found him by now.” _We have_ , Hank thought. Unfortunately, in mutual agreement with Renard, they'd decided to keep the situation with Nick quiet from the other detectives. At least till they sort things out with Nick's memory problem.

“You still think he is alive?” Wu asked, carefully not to upset the other man too badly. The subject is a sore spot for all of them - to lose a fellow detective was not something any of them particularly enjoyed, surely Hank, Nick's partner, felt the pain of the separation the hardest.

“I do,” Hank replied, firmly. “And I won't stop trying to get him back until he is returned to us safely once more.” Wu, despite the slim chance for that to happened, at least at this late stage of the investigation, found himself smiling. It was an admirable display of strength, and the pure faith Hank put in his missing partner, was amazing. And surely, Nick, too trust the man - _in all of them,_ to find and rescue him from wherever hellhole he was kept locked away in.

“You're right,” he said. “He is probably wondering what the hell is keeping us. The cheeky bastard.” About to reply Hank suddenly felt a tingle running down his spine. As if he was being watched. However, a quick lookaround in the small shop, Hank noticed that no one seemed to pay them too much of attention. Shrugging it off, Hank returned to the conversation with Wu.

“You're probably right. Want to bet any money on it?” Hank suggest in good spirit. Wu quickly shook his head.

“Forget it. It's not even a fair game.” Laughing Hank stood to leave.

“Probably not.”

“Time to head out?” Wu asked, swallowing the last of his coffee. Hank nod, than as they were ready to leave, Hank felt the hair at the back of his neck stand at all direction. Abruptly halting Wu almost bumped right into him.

“A bit of a warning would have been lovely,” he complained, drying the small stain off coffee that he’d accidentally spilled on himself. Hank ignored his bitching coworker. Too absorbed in his search to find the reason to his unease. Founding none, Hank frowned. _Am I imagine things?_

“What's wrong?” Wu asked, sensing something was bothering the man.

“It's probably nothing, but I felt watched just now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And earlier, to.” Frowning Wu looked over his shoulder.

“What do you wanna do about it?”

“Nothing,” Hank said and payed for his coffee. “It's not like it's against the law, anyway.” Besides, it wasn't as if Hank picked up any ill intention from whoever was watching him. “Who knows, maybe I have a secret admire,” he said, stepping outside. But, despite the good humor, Hank was unable to relax fully. He’d had no idea whom was watching him after all.

 

Hidden among the shadows Thomas observed the man from a safe distance. He'd been standing - waiting for the detective to make an appearance at the small little coffee shop for the last hour and half. It felt wrong. Spying on him, but Thomas was left with no other choice. He was curious. Hank seemed like a nice man and Thomas felt no need to fear him. _Is it because he is my partner?_ Thomas thought, watching him greet another man already inside. Thomas had no idea whom the other man might be - however, his instinct telling him that he should. Frowning he saw Hank looking over his shoulder, clearly searching for someone. Knowing the act to be pointless - there was no way he'd been spotted from his location, Thomas pressed himself closer to the brick-wall; away from the stream of people and prying eyes. It would be bad if anyone were to see him. His Master was an influential man, you never knew who was watching. _Oh, the irony,_ Thomas mused. Continuing following them with his eyes Thomas watch the two men as they walked down the street until he could no longer distinguish them from the rest of the crowd.

Sighing he decided to call it a day. Walking towards his bike Thomas debated whatever or not to pay Sean a quick visit while he was at it. He'd thought about it all night after his conversation with Kailee. There were questions that has to be answered. Thomas might not like what Sean has to tell him, but he needs to listen to it. All of it. Only when Thomas has heard both sides of the story could he make judgments and _hopefully_ decide what to do next.

_Deep down you know I'm telling you the truth._

A heavy lump of unease settled in his stomach. Gritting his teeth in anger Thomas starts the bike. He still couldn't do it. Despite knowing what must be done, Thomas still couldn't gather the courage to go through with it. He was too scared of what he might learn. The life he'd had by serving master Eric provided Thomas with a purpose; a home and a sense of stability - despite the man's unprecedented temper. Then there was Kailee. The girl had become somewhat of a dear friend to him over the last couple of months. If Thomas left - what would happened to her?

As Thomas closed in on the building complex where Sean lived Thomas, in a last second decision, speed up and rushed past the building in a blur. Whatever faith had in store for him. It could wait for a while longer. However, faith seemed to have a completely different opinion on the matter. As he drove past the gates a few hours later Thomas saw a car parked outside. A very familiar car, in fact. Cursing, Thomas reduced his speed heavily.

His master had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I look very much forward to hear your opinions. 
> 
> Much love, Nicole.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, and Thomas.” Then, before he'd had the chance to respond, Thomas felt a sharp pain across his face, burning and intense. Hissing Thomas stumbled on his feet. The blow had been merciless and swift. Taking him completely by surprise. “Don't ever talk back to me like that ever again. If you do, I'll use other means then my cane to beat some sense into you, is that understood?” Thomas simple nod, his cheek burning too hot to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the late update but I have recently bought my own place and it's taking up all my free time to get everything sorted. I hope to get back to regular updates soon.

**Chapter Sixteen**

“You incompetent fool!” Thomas instantly halted, the door still opened behind him. “How difficult can it be to make a dissent cup of coffee?” Something else was said, too, but Thomas couldn't make it out over the harsh sound of porcelain shattering against the marble floor. Frowning at his master's ill temper, Thomas nervously removed his helmet as silently as possible. Whatever did happen during the trip sure had left the man in a sour mood. A tactical retreat would be very much advised. Especially under circumstances such as these. Stepping out off his shoes to mask his presence further, Thomas carefully shut the door behind him. However, the plan of escaping to his own room fell short since master Eric and, whoever the poor sod is, stood right at the foot of the stairs – making it impossible for Thomas to reach it without being notice. Which, quite frankly, was rather the point.

Sighing Thomas decided to take refuge in the kitchen instead. It was almost time for dinner anyway. Unfortunately, as he'd walk pass the hallway Thomas were able to pick up the poor servant's stammering apology, making him halt in his escape.

“I deeply apologize, master. P-please, forgive m-me.” The plead reasoned with Thomas, causing something deep within him to flare to life. Sadly, what that something might be, Thomas had no idea. All he knew was that it made him unable to leave the poor man all alone, shaking and trembling on the floor. Hesitantly Thomas joined the two – still torn between walking away, leaving the man to his faith, and help him in any way he could. Master could be incredible brutal towards those who, in the eyes of his master, did him wrong in any ways.

_Even you can't be blind do his cruelty._

“Apologize? I should cut your hands off to prevent you from ever serving me such disgusting coffee in the future.” Gritting his teeth, annoyed to no end, Thomas approached the servant who was still trembling on the floor with his head down.

_No one can be that blind._

“Master, please do reconsider,” Thomas said, stepping between the two, shielding the man from the wrath of their master as best as he could.

“Reconsider? You sure have some nerve questioning me, Thomas.” The grimm knew by the stormy look in his master's eyes that he'd walk on very thin ice, but nonetheless, he couldn't just turn his back to what was happening. It was simply wrong. The punishment did just not fit the crime.

“I know he'd do you wrong, but can you really blame him for lacking the necessary skills?” Thomas went on saying, confident in his stand. “Cleaning and cooking is suppose to be handled by a woman, after all. If you'd cut off his hands he'd be unable to serve you all together. Surely he is still useful to you in other tasks, such as maintaining the garden or mend your cars, no?”

Glaring down at the pathetic excuse to a man, hidden behind the grimm's legs and protection, Eric felt nothing but distaste and anger. The man was trash, nothing but a tool to serve his every command. The man did just proving himself unfit to serve him properly, he'd not possessed the right skills for the task, and so, for what purpose did he have to keep him around, much less alive? None. Unless...

Frowning Eric starred head to head with the man before him. The grimm still owned too much of a free will for Eric's liking. If by spearing this trash's life meant his hold on the grimm would improve, then he would be a fool not to take it.

“Fine.” He finally agrees. “I'll not remove your hands. After all, you'll need them while helping cleaning out the stables.” Thomas sighed in relief, glad everything turned out alright.

“Oh, and Thomas.” Then, before he'd had the chance to respond, Thomas felt a sharp pain across his face, burning and intense. Hissing Thomas stumbled on his feet. The blow had been merciless and swift. Taking him completely by surprise. “Don't ever talk back to me like that ever again. If you do, I'll use other means then my cane to beat some sense into you, is that understood?” Thomas simple nod, his cheek burning too hot to reply. “Good.” And with that Eric turned and left. Showing no sign of concerns whatsoever for the damage he'd inflict upon him. 

Cursing Thomas glared at his master's retreating back. _I should have fucking known better,_ Thomas thought, angrily gritted his teeth. Only to hiss and curse once more as it made his broken lip throb painfully between his teeth.  _Well, at least he didn't ask where I have been all day_. The fact he'd manage to avoid telling his master about Hank, not to mention his conversation with Sean, made his sore cheek and lip seem rather insignificant comparing to the pure hell master Eric undoubtedly would have leach upon him if he knew. Shivering at the thought Thomas seriously consider to forget about Sean and everything about him all together. Surely the risk to continue was far too high. As long as his master was at home he'd be endanger himself every time he left the castle. _As if staying here is much safer._ Sighting Thomas pulled himself together. He was tired, and now sore, too. He'd rather go to bed then trying to figure out what to do next. As he were about to leave, however, Thomas suddenly felt a firm hand on his shoulder, preventing him from leaving. Turning Thomas was greeted by the same servant he'd helped out.

“I...um, thank you, for standing up for me,” he said, struggling to keep eye contact for more than two seconds. “No one has ever done that before.”  _I wonder why,_ Thomas thought as he carefully wiped the blood off with his thumb. “I'm s-sorry,” the man whispered, ashamed and full of guilt. “You are hurt because of me.”

“Don't worry about it. It was my own fault. I should have expected something like this would have happened. I have no one to blame but myself.” The man shook his head, dismissing Thomas excuses completely.

“N-no, I am to blame. Let me find you some ice for your injuries, it's the least I can do.” Thomas were about to decline. All he really need was some rest and he'd be fine soon enough. “Please,” the man added.

Sighting Thomas caved. Besides, the ice would help with the swelling that was due to emerge anyway. Allowing the man – Judas, Thomas soon learned – guided him to the kitchen where he was soon taken care of by not only Judas, but two other maids who were already in the kitchen at the time. Thomas felt himself blush at all the attention he'd received. However, the huffed and dotting reminded him of someone, unfortunately he couldn't for the life of him figure out where or whom. Only bits and pieces. A female with brown hair and kind eyes. Thomas couldn't explain why but the lady made him think about the blutbad. Where they connected somehow? _It doesn't matter,_ he thought, brushing the image aside. As long as his master was at home, there would be no point in trying to make sense of the jumbling mess of his memories because, and Thomas hate to admit it, even to himself, but the only person who might be able to shed some light was Sean, perhaps even Hank, or the blutbad himself. The woman – Juliette, was for obvious reason out of the question. There was no way Thomas could take anything she tells him to heart, she was too enamored with him. The fact that he wasn't sexual attractive to women made her story about them being together all the more ridicules. Sean, on the other hand, with his muscular body and trim waist, that deep voice and... _Tried to kill me_ , Thomas bitterly reminded himself. But, then again, Sean did look genuinely perplexed when the incident in the woods was brought up… Sighing he shook his head. Even so, Sean was kinda the enemy, as far as master Eric was concerned and as such the enemy of Thomas, too. Still, the man was sexy as hell. Maybe… _No, I'll not sleep with the enemy!_ Thomas thought firmly. Besides, if Sean was telling him the truth about him being a detective, which made Sean his boss, then Thomas would be a walking cliche. Screwing with the boss and all… _Would he even be the type to fuck one of his own employee?_ Thomas wondered. Bend them over his desk and… Seemingly out of nowhere, something very cold sudden connected with his skin. Flinching back with a hiss, Thomas almost fell out of his chair. The maid before him looked rather apologetic for having disturbed him.

“Sorry, sir, but we need to cool that down as soon as possible,” she explained, eyeing his blossom cheek with concern. _That's not the only thing that needs to cool down_ , Thomas though, squirming slightly in his seat. “Here,” she said, handing him a bagful of ice. “Keep it still for about 10 minutes. The cold might be a bit uncomfortable, but it will help.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said, grateful to see her leave soon after. However...

“I brought you some soup, sir,” Judas said, placing the bowl of smoking hot food at the table before him. “I thought chewing would be a bit too much consider your cheek,” he went on saying, taking a seat of his own. “We only had chicken soup, I am afraid. I hope it will do.”

“It's fine,” Thomas said, carefully taking a spoon. “I'm not too picky with what I eat.” In contrast to their master. The man was stone set in having nothing but the best – which included food and drinks. The incident from earlier was a perfect example of that. With a deep sigh Thomas absentminded played with his food.

“Are you alright, sir?” Judas asked, concerned and slightly on edge. “Is the food not good? I can ask the maids to cook something else for you, if you would like.” Thomas felt a stab of guilt. The young man had obviously done his best to make him something to eat – a small token of appreciation for saving him from their master's temper. Shamefully for his ungratefulness Thomas took a mouthful of the soup.

“No, it's alright. I am just tired, that's all.” Then, to lighten the man up, Thomas added. “The soup is great.”

“Really?” Thomas nodded, taking another mouthful. “I am glad to hear that,” he said, smiling wide. Thomas felt himself smile, too. The young lad, just like Kailee, deserved to smile more often. _If only there was something I could do to help them_ , Thomas thought, his heart ached for them, all of them. **Why do you need to help them?** The beast asked. **It's not your responsibility. You have a hard time just looking out for yourself.** Ignoring the jab Thomas swiftly stood. His appetite ruined.

“Sir?”

“Sorry, but I better get some rest. It's been a rather long day.”

“Oh, of course, sir. Then, I wish you a good night.” With nothing but a tired smile Thomas left. Sudden wishing he'd be anywhere but here.

_“Nick, you don't belong here. This is not your home. Your place is with us and we are here to take you back.”_

Frustrated Thomas entered his room, growling angrily. Despite of knowing not to trust anything that any of the members of the rat pack's said, Thomas couldn't help but feel utterly out of place. And home, no longer felt much of a home anymore. If it ever did.

“What do I do?” he asked out loud. As expected, no one answered him.

 

The fog was thick - the spotlight of the train barely able to penetrate the density of it. Pulling his coat closer to his body, trying to keep himself warm in the chilly hour of the night, Renard watched the man appear like a ghost through the mist. Walking with quick strides, Renard soon reached the man, greeting him warmly.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Meisner,” Renard replied, shaking the man's hand. “I appreciate you coming here in such a short notice.”

“Don't worry about it. On the phone it sound rather urgent.”

“It is, yes, and I fear we might not have much time.”

“In that case, I better get right on to it. Tell me, what's the job?”

“Like I told you over the phone, there has been a handful of murders the last couple of months that has been worryingly similar to that if rippers.”

“And I take it that's not the case?”

“I highly doubt it. There is no reason for them even being here. Not since there isn't actually a grimm in the city to begin with.”

“You mentioned it before, but where is the infamous grimm anyway?” Rage instantly flare to life within him and Renard had a hard time not to woge right then and there.

“My brother has him,” he replied, gritting his teeth in cold anger.

“W-what?”

“He kidnapped Nick a few months back. I had no idea at the time that Eric had anything to do with Nick's disappearing. I only learned about it myself a few days ago.”

“Then, surely you have a plan to get him back?”

“It's not that easy.” Renard shamefully admits.

“I know it's tricky because of his royal blood and living in Austria, but-”

“He is not in Austria,” Renard cut in. “Eric is currently staying at one of the family resident a couple of hours South from here.”

“Then, what's the problem?” Meisner asked, confused by the hold back. It was not like the Captain to withhold himself when something as important as the grimm was at line.

“There is something else to it, isn't there?” For a brief moment Meisner could have sworn he'd seen something akin to pain in the man's eyes, but it was gone quickly enough that he doubt what he'd seen. “Sir?”

Sighing Renard shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Nick doesn't remember anything, or anyone from his old life. I don't know what my brother has done to him to make him forget, but it's working.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“Believe me. No one would be more happier than me if that was the case, but as you can see, I'm not laughing. At the moment my brother has Nick believing his name is Thomas and that he is one of his loyal servants.” The fact that Eric had Nick calling him master still irked Renard to no end. _When I get my hands on him I'll slowly going to strangle him!_ Renard mentally pledged. “Also, to do matter worse, Eric has twisted the truth about the few memories he'd still have to fit his own purposes. As for now, Nick believes I am the enemy. Same goes for Monroe and Juliette, too.”

Meisner had no idea what to say. The tale Renard told him was unbelievable, but, he'd been working with Renard long enough to know the man was telling him the truth. Shit! Fidgeting with his suitcase Meisner felt an almost overwhelming urge to get to work. With a grimm in his disposal there was no telling what Eric might do. If Eric regain any more political, not to mention royal status because of the grimm, everything they have been working for would be for nothing. Calming himself down Meisner turned to Renard for guidance.

“What do you want me to do, sir?” On this Renard had no hesitation.

“Find out anything you can connected to the murders. I need them to stop before I have a riot on my hands.”

“And the grimm, sir?”

“Leave Nick to me. There is no way in hell I'll allow my brother to toy with him for much longer.”

“As you wish,” Meisner said. This meeting was over with. “I'll call you the moment I have anything.”

“Please do.” Then, with a quick goodbye the two went their separate ways, acting as if nothing had even happened.

Once back in the car, Renard fell back in the driver seat with a deep sigh. He was tired. Exhaustion and worry had been part of him every since Nick disappeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Now Renard knew why they'd been struggle to find anything concrete to go on. It had not been mere amateurs with luck on their sides whom had snatches Nick that evening, but rather people who actually knew what they were doing. _With the kind of money my brother has..._ Renard thought, the car roaring to life, _...making a man disappear wouldn't be too difficult._

In hindsight Renard owned his brother a great deal of gratitude. After all, Eric could have chosen not to inform him about Nick's whereabouts whatsoever. The idea of never knowing what had happened to him; the constant concern, the endless search and the never-ending questions forever remain unanswered… To Renard, that was worse than hell, but, that's as far as his gratitude goes. He is still going to kill Eric for what he'd done. Renard couldn't care less about his own vendetta towards his brother, but the pain he'd inflicted upon Nick, however, was a different matter entirely. Now, with Meisner working on the late killings, Renard could focus his attention to bring Nick back. _Then_ , Renard mentally added. _I'll keep him as far away from my family as I possibly can…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but I thought a walking cane would suit Eric rather well. Or perhaps that's just me >.<
> 
> As always I look very much forward to read your comment or a little kudos. 
> 
> Love Nicole


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “S-Sean?” He called out, his hand slowly reaching for the concealed knife hidden behind his back. The man didn't respond to his call and as Renard walked towards him, steady and with eyes wild with anger, Thomas desperately wished he'd brought his sword with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply apologise for the lack of update but life as been such a bitch to my poor little muse. I promise I'll try my best get better at updating regularly again.

**Chapter Seventeen**

Thomas lay sprawled out in the sun, eyes closed and half asleep. A gentle wind blew across his arms and his face. The midday heat was like a warm blanket wrapped over him. He dozed, on and off, lulled by the sound of people chattering and working around him. In his lazy haze he’d picked up the familiar steps of Kailee crossing the yard, then forward straight towards him. Even with his eyes shut he’d already knew she was smiling. She did it a lot more often these days. _It's nice_ , he thought, smiling too.

“Finally!” Thomas heard her say not but a few seconds later. “I have been looking all over for you,” she said, trying to sound annoyed, but Thomas could hear the fondness clear as day.

“Congratulations, you found me,” he replied, grinning widely. “Not that I tried to hide to begin with. You weren't very good at hide and seek as a kid, where you?” The girl mumbled a low 'smart ass' under her breath while folding her skirt around her legs and sat down beside him. Thomas chuckled at the newfound banter between them. It was nice, relaxing. A far cry from the distant relationship they'd shared back in the early days of his arrival to the castle. _Hard to believe they are both and the same girl_ , thinks Thomas, tugging at the bottom lip; causing the cut to burn and ache. He'd tried not to wince, but Kailee quickly picked up on his discomfort.

“How is the wound?” She asked, worryingly. “Does it hurt an awfully lot?” Her eyes darting towards the left side of his face. Thomas shook his head. The bruise across his cheek was fairly superficial, and his broken lip more an itch than anything else. Besides, Thomas did deserve it. His intentions might have been noble, but he'd still been disrespectful. Of course he'd be punished. It was only fair. But still... Master Eric's temper had been rather livid, even for him. Frowning, Thomas looked at the blue sky above him. Did something happened during his trip? Then, what? What did-

“I'd hear among the other servants that master Eric did not found whatever he was looking for while he was away,” Kailee said. “Apparently, it had been a dead end.” _Ah, that would explain his temper,_ Thomas thought, licking his lips absentmindedly. Winching as his wound stung once again. This time, Kailee didn't comment on it, which, quite frankly, he was grateful for. One could only handle so much sympathy after all...

“What are you gonna do about Sean?” She then asks, rather out of the blue. Completely taken off guard by the sudden change of topic, Thomas was reduced speechless.

“What about him?” He finally manage to squeeze out, his heart rate slightly faster.

“Well, now that master Eric is back you can't just take off and see him anytime you want. At least not without looking over your shoulders all the time.” Sighting Thomas shut his eyes.

“You're right. I can't.” And the fact caused him more grief than Thomas cared to admit. “Maybe...” he said, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. “Maybe it's a sign that I should stop while I'm still alive. After all, there is no proof Sean, or any of them, is telling the truth.”

“And master Eric has solid proof that he is telling you the truth?” Kailee countered.

“You know,” Thomas said, glaring at her. “Is there something you want to tell me, Kailee? Because lately, you have been acting as if you know something that I don't.” Kailee mentally cursed herself. _I said too much_.

“A-all I'm saying is; don't be too quick to judge,” she explains, nervously playing with the grass between her fingers. “You've not yet heard Sean's side of the story, right? You became too scared and ran away before he could, didn't you? Oh, our fearless grimm,” she teased, hoping it would be enough to distract him from her slip up. _Did I really thought her new found attitude was a good thing?_ Thomas muses, cracking a gentle smile at her.

“Watch it, Missy. Or I might tell Miss. Jones who's stealing sweets from the pantry.”

“You wouldn't!” She shrieked in dramatic horror.

“Oh, I would alright.” Thomas said, trying to sound stern, but it was a rather fruitless attempt. The face she made at his revolution was priceless. Thomas was soon laughing and Kailee was quick to join in, making her appear much younger than her actually age of 19. After laughing together for a solid few minutes, they were somehow able to calm down enough to return to the topic at hand.

“You might be right, Kailee,” Thomas confess. “I _do_ feel there is more to it then a simple rivalry between master Eric and Sean. I don't know why, but there is something about Sean that, sort of,calms me. Which is absurd consider he sent me to the hospital.”

“Did Sean admit to be the one who put you there? When you confronted him about it?”

“Of course not. He denied it, and why wouldn't he?” Kailee looked as if she wanted to say something, but not sure how to breach the topic.

“Thomas…” She said, choosing her words carefully. One mishap and things could turn rather nasty. “Do you trust me?” Thomas looked at her, frowning as he thought it over. She'd been nothing but kind and caring the moment he arrived to the castle four months ago; no hints of ill intention nor foul play. Then again, there was no denying it that she was hiding something from him, something crucial. Still....

“Because of my lack of memories,” he finally spoke. “my instincts advises me not to trust you - or anyone else for that matter. As long as I am without it, a tool to separate fact from fiction, I'm wide open for manipulation. But,” Thomas meet her gaze with a gentle smile. “My instincts also tells me that I can trust you.” Kailee’s smile was as wide and bright as Thomas had ever seen it. It warmed his heart.

“Then, trust me when I tell you that you'll neither find peace or closure about what happened to you out in the woods all those months ago; not to mention retrieve your memories, without speaking with Sean and clear everything up once and for all.”

“Who are you, my therapist?” He joked. But deep down, Thomas knew she was right. A man like Sean Renard was not someone you could simply walk away from. No matter how much one might try. _God, have I tried_ , Thomas thought, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “It doesn't really matter, Kailee. You said so yourself. As long as master Eric is home, I risk getting caught. I might as well pull the trigger myself and get it over with because – let's face it, there is no way I'll survive if he'd ever found out about it.”

“In that case, I suggest you do hurry.” Thomas eyebrows rose, then knitted together in obvious confusion. “Like I told you, Master Eric is in a bad mood. And as so, he has locked himself up in his office with strict orders not to be disturbed. Who know for how long. Probably for the rest of the day, perhaps most of the evening, too. What to do with all that free, _unsupervised_ time, I wonder?” Chuckling Thomas stood up, brushing the grass off from his trousers.

“I get it. I'm going. I'm going,” he said, trying to ignore her joyfully laughter as he crossed the lawn and over towards his bike. And despite the still lingering fear of getting caught, Thomas couldn't deny the thrill he felt at the idea of seeing the handsome Captain again.

During the ride over his excitement never flounder, not even once. Quite the opposite, it had only growing to the point of almost being unbarring. Upon arrival, Thomas was almost giddy. So much, in fact, that he'd could barely stop himself from running across the street. The lights was on. Indicating that the Captain was actually at home. Crossing the street with quick strides, Thomas immediately heaved himself up and claimed the three with much eagerness. Peeking through the window, he saw no trace of the man he'd came to see. For a brief moment, Thomas consider to knock, but quickly dismissed it. Where was the fun in that?

Smiling he'd swiftly picked the window up, then, as he could still not detect the man, Thomas carefully stepped inside. **Don't forget to shut the window behind you this time, idiot,** the beast mumbled. Rolling his eyes, Thomas did. Once shut, Thomas listened. He could hear sounds, soft movements coming from the kitchen. Making lunch, perhaps... _Do Sean even know how to cook?_ Thomas wondered, struggling with the image of the prince cook something even half decent. **Look who's talking. You can't cook a bowl of pasta even if your life depends on it**.

“It's not that bad,” Thomas replied quietly. Then he frowned. “Is it?” The beast chuckled. **Lets just say, for both our sakes, that your other half knows how to cook.** “That's just mean,” Thomas replied as he walked towards the couch and sat down, deciding to give Sean the time to finish up with whatever he was doing...

Which, turned out to be a rather impossible task because, despite his reluctance to imagine Sean cooking, Thomas couldn't deny the fact that, whatever it was, smelled fucking _fantastic!_ And the longer he sat there, the more mouthwatering the aroma became.

“I wonder what he is cooking...” he asked aloud. “It smells... familiar, somehow... As thought...” Before Thomas was fully aware of what he was doing, he'd already left the couch and was slowly making his way down the hall towards the kitchen. Completely enchanted by the smell of a homemade dinner and the domestic atmosphere it brought with; Thomas kept walking – trapped in forgotten nostalgia. Although, Thomas couldn't remember any of the reasons why it – _this_ , felt familiar. _But I want to know_. Half in daze, Thomas softly knocked on the doorframe – half expecting to receive an 'enter', oddly enough – before he stepped into the kitchen.

Only to get bewitched all over again.

As he entered the kitchen, Thomas was met with a stunning sight of the Captain; dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a purple shirt that snugged his upper body in all the right places. However, what caught Thomas attention, besides all the reason above, was the man's impressive arms. With the sleeves rolled up, and the way the fabric was stretched to its limit, Thomas could do nothing but stare. _God, he is striking_ , Thomas thinks. Slowly licking his dry lips, Thomas was sudden very tempted to find out just how strong the man really is. And no, not the kind of showdown with fist, but rather a power play that took place between the sheets. Or against a wall, really, Thomas couldn't care less as long as the surface was flat.

“Nick? What... Why are you-?” Thomas had never seen the man struggle with his words before. He'd had to admit that he found the action absolutely adorable. _He would probably try and kill me if I ever call him cute out loud,_ Thomas thought, desperately keeping himself from laughing. Altho, Thomas amusement rapidly vanished as Sean's expression went from mild confusion to cold hate and uncontrolled anger within the blink of an eye. The sight of the Captain, enraged and livid, immediately sent Thomas into fight-or-flight mode.

“S-Sean?” He called out, his hand slowly reaching for the concealed knife hidden behind his back. The man didn't respond to his call and as Renard walked towards him, steady and with eyes wild with anger, Thomas desperately wished he'd brought his sword with him.

 

Humming softly to the tune in his head, Renard shopped the salad while waiting for the meat to cook. He was in surprisingly good mood; consider the shit at work, the mess with his brother and everything in between. It was his day off, and normally Renard would be busy stressing himself out in hope of finding any trace of Nick, but this time around, Renard felt no need to pull his hair out in frustration in his lack of progress because, despite his still lingering concern for the grimm, Renard now knew exactly where to find him. Interrupted by a soft knock on the door, Renard's train of thought came to an abrupt halt. Frowning, Renard stopped what he was doing. He wasn't expecting anyone. Mentally locating his gun, if the situation called for it, Renard turned to the door with caution. The moment the door opened, however, the location of his gun was the least on his mind.

“Nick? What... Why are you-?” His words fell flat as he sudden lay eyes on the damage done to the grimm's face. The realization that Nick was harmed sent a blaze of fury through his veins. And once again, his priority was to get his gun. _Whoever the bastard is, he is dead!_ Livid he marched towards Nick with barely contained anger. The Zauberbiest within him ached to tear into flesh and draw blood; to snap bones and shatter the man's soul and body through unspeakable pain. In his haze of bloodlust urge, Renard noticed the shift in the grimm's body language. The way he stood; rigged and tensed, the uncertainness in his eyes and the way his hand kept twitching at his side. Realizing that he was frightening the younger man sent a hurel of unpleasantness to his gut. Sighting deeply, Renard tried to reel himself in. His temper clearly upset the man, and Renard didn't want that. Forcing himself to relax, Renard carefully, and very, very slowly, reached out to cup the detective's injured cheek with his hand. He almost felt a physical stab to his heart when Nick flinched at the touch – _his_ touch, but Renard pushed it aside. For now, at least.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his thumb gently caressing the discolored skin. “Nick, tell me who harmed you and I will have him killed in an instant.”

Fluttering his eyes open – he don't even remember closing them – Thomas stared at Renard with open disbelief. The touch against his sore cheek was warm and soothing; almost protectively. The clear concern for his welfare let loose a bunch of hyperactive butterflies in the pit of his stomach. Thomas was very much struggling to keep himself grounded in reality as Renard kept stroking his cheek; touching him as if he was the most precious thing. An embarrassing whimper escaped his lips. Thomas would have kicked himself if he'd had the capability to move. But at the moment, all he could do was breathing and keep himself in vertical position. Which, quite frankly, was bloody impressive consider he was being touch by Sean fucking-sex-on-legs Renard.

“Does it hurt?” The Captain asked, his thumb halting hesitatingly over the bruised skin. Clearing his throat, Thomas answered him with a broken 'No'. Thomas could see the Captain instantly relax, and it had him frowning; his head spinning with questions and uncertainness.

“W-why do you even care?” Thomas stuttered. “I am nothing to you but a tool.” _Just as I am nothing but a tool to Master Eric,_ he thought bitterly. “You have no right to be concerned. Or touch me, for that matter,” he said, and very reluctantly stepped away from the man's soothing touch. “Let me be.” Thomas swore he saw hurt, or was it sadness, perhaps a little bit of both, in Renard's eyes. Surely, that couldn't be right? For what reason did the man had to feel bad for Thomas rejecting him?

“You are right,” Renard said, taking a step back. “I have no right to touch you, but not because of the reason you think. You are not a tool to me, Nick.” Opening the freezer, Renard grabbed a bag of frozen peas. “You are a friend. And as a friend, I _am_ entitled to be concerned. Especially when that said friend shows up at my house bruised and obviously hurt.” Thomas, dumbstruck, took the bag of peas. “It's for your face, by the way,” Renard explained, smiling at the clueless way the grimm stared at the frozen vegetables in his hands.

“O-oh...” Thomas felt his cheeks heated up. “I have already cooled it down.” _It was not the only thing that had to be cooled down._ Thomas felt his cheeks growing uncomfortable hot at the reminded fantasy. “But thanks, anyway,” he said, and genially meant it. Renard smiled back at him.

“You are welcome,” he replied, returning back to the oven where he reheated the meat. “What do I owe the pleasure of your company this time, then?” Taking the question as an invitation to stay, Thomas took a seat by the kitchen table.

Letting out a deep sigh, Thomas felt himself relaxed. It had been rather tense back at the castle lately. Consider master Eric's bad temper, it was only to be expected.

“I came here because I want to hear what you have to say.” Renard turned to look at him.

“What I have to say?”

“Yes. I only know what your brother has told me, and as I have been constant reminded of lately, there is always two sides of the coin.” _Thank you, Kailee_. Thomas almost rolled his eyes as he thought of the girl. “Which is way, despite my orders not to have anything to do with you, I have come to see you. To ask you to tell me your side of the story.” Renard looked hesitant for a moment and Thomas sudden feared that he'd said too much.

“What do you think I have been trying to do?” Renard said, crossing his arms over his chest. “All I have done is offered you the truth, but you refuse to listen to what I had to say. In fact, the last time I tried to you all but stormed out of here. Called me a liar, even.” There was no real heat behind the Captain's words, but still, Thomas felt slightly guilty for his earlier behavior.

“I... I apologize,” If master Eric was there to witness the apology, Thomas was sure he'd get another broken lip for his trouble. Even so, Thomas was man enough to admit when he was in the wrong. “I didn't mean to upset you. It's just...” Struggling Thomas tried to decide whatever or not to tell Renard the truth; the reason why he'd fled the other night. “Fuck it, I might be digging my own grave here but I am too fucking tired to give a shit. I feel like I am slowly going insane. There is so many questions I want to ask, but too scared to ask them.”

“Scared?” Renard asked, offering Nick a glass of water.

“Thanks,” he said, gratefully accepting the offer. Thomas took a mouthful before he continue. “And yes; scared. I have no recall of my life before I woke up at the hospital. No memories – name or knowledge of who or where I was. Then, mast –” but stopped seeing Sean's angry face, resenting the title his brother had bestowed himself. “I mean, your brother,” Thomas quickly changed, hoping to avoid yet another dispute between them, “was there. He'd explained to me what'd happened and the reason to why I was in the hospital. He might not be the most caring person in the world, but he was all I had.”

“That's not true. He is not everything you have, Nick. I-”

“ _But he was!_ ” Thomas cut in harshly. “Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up and not even knowing your own name? The complete lack of _everything_? It's terrifying! I was... I was so scared.” Trying to keep his hands from trembling, Thomas fisted his hands hard enough to hurt. Renard wished to reached out, to hold Nick's hand and comfort him, but he didn't. Such action would only do more harm than good at this point. Instead, he offered the detective all the time he needed.

“When I woke up, I had nothing,” Thomas went on explaining. “But then I had a name – Thomas Schirach; a role – a purpose and stability. A place to call home. Can you imagine how incredibly happy I was?” Thomas still remembers how emotional he'd been after his first encounter with master Eric back then. He had been so damn relieved! “I know you don't want to hear this, but you have to understand. Back at the hospital, your brother saved me. If he'd not taking me in, giving me an identity, I would have gone insane. And for that, I am forever grateful. I... I _literally_ own him my life. Do you understand?” Renard hate to say it, but he did understand. Although, that didn't made him hate his brother any less for what he'd done.

“I was content with the life I had, even without my memories,” Thomas said. “But then... I start having these images in my head, in my dreams. I saw faces that I could not name, incidents I can't remember, nor did they made any sense. I even dreamed... _saw_ you in my mind,” Thomas shyly admits. “The first time it happened, I was in the shower.” God, Thomas practically felt his face burning at this point. “T-the soap, the scent was familiar somehow... It wasn't something concrete back then; only your hair and this _feeling_ of calmness. But shortly after, I dreamed about fighting a man with similar features. However, what I felt then was not calmness, but rage and hurt. At first, I thought nothing if it, brushed it aside as a bad dream. I was then told that the fight was not a flicker of my imagination, but a real life event. In fact, it was the reason to why I had end up in the hospital with amnesia to begin with.” Thomas could see a flicker of recognition in Renards eyes, but didn't pay too much attention to it.

“I tried not to think too much about it. After all, who wants to remember such an awful event?” Thomas chuckled, but it was bitter and cold. “Not that I had much saying in the matter. Because suddenly, there you were. Standing before me in the flesh – arguing with sir Eric no less. I instantly recognized you as the man from the woods. I was so mad at you. For what you’d done.” _That explains it_ , Renard thought, thinking back at Nick's unexplainable hostility. “I was so furious. All I wanted to do was to kill you right then and there.”

“What stopped you?” Renard asked, actually curious to way Nick had lowered his sword when he did.

“Your scent,” Thomas shyly admits. “I smelled the same scent from your hair as I'd that time in the shower.The same smell that triggered the phantom sensation of safety. Which, made no sense whatsoever since you were the one who harmed me. At first, I thought it was all just a coincident. It wasn't that far fetched that you two might shared the same taste in soap. You two being brothers and all. But, no matter how much I resented you, I couldn't shake this feeling that something was off, even wrong. It was little things at first; uncertainty and simple paranoia because of my memories loose, but it started to pile up til the point I could no longer ignore it. I came the other night because I wanted to figure out what it is I was missing.” Renard wanted to ask him why he ran away, then. If it's the truth he wants, why not stay and listen? It made no sense. Thankfully, Renard didn't had to ask.

“But then, when I was offered the opportunity to learn, I suddenly was second guessing myself. And I got scared. Everything I knew – everything that I had, who I am. I was no longer sure. I was scared that what you were telling me was, in fact, the truth. Then what? I don't know anything else besides _this_ ,” Thomas gesture to himself, “This is the only life I know. Who am I if not Thomas? What do I do if not serving my master? Where do I live if not in the castle? I... It, the possibility that you might be telling me the truth terrified me so – I ran.” Renard might not have been in the same situation as Nick; living a life without his memories to guide him through life, but he could relate to the fear of the unknown. He was a bastard's son, after all. His life as such was nothing else but uncertainty.

“Perhaps I should have offered you a drink instead,” Renard said. And despite of the gravity of the situation, Thomas couldn't help but to laugh aloud.

“Perhaps you should have,” the grimm replied, amusement sparkling in his eyes. The joy, as fleet as it was, made the younger man stunningly beautiful, Renard thought. “Unfortunately, I have a long drive back and I highly doubt the Captain of Portland's PD would allow me to drive under the influence of alcohol.” Chuckling, Renard stood up.

“You are right; I wouldn't. But, if I can't offer you a drink, then how about lunch? I have cooked enough for both of us. If you are interested, that is?” It was a tempting offer. Glancing at the watch on the wall, Thomas felt his shoulders relax. There was still plenty of time before master Eric would rose any suspicions of his whereabouts.

“It smell amazing,” he answered, smiling softly. “And honestly, I'm rather surprise you even know how to cook. Your brother certainly can't.”

“Well,” Renard said, setting another plate out on the table. “In contrary to my brother, I wasn't raised with a silver spoon in my mouth. I might have money to never worry about financial matters, but that has not always been the case. While I was on the run from my family, I had to endure some pretty heavy shit, going to bed hungry was a part of my every day life. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. In fact, I am grateful for my harsh uprising. It taught me to value, to _respect_ what I have. Food is essential to life. The rule applies to anyone – rich or poor, it doesn't matter. Without food, you're dead. Will gold and silver ease your hunger on a deserted island? What help will richness do you when there is no food to buy? You can't eat money after all. That's what I learned, and it's why I taught myself how to cook.” Thomas listen intensely to what the man said. It was such a contrast to his master whom never shared a second thought to where the food came from, or the effort and time behind the dish. The fact that Sean not only value it, but respected it as well, made Thomas admiring the man a little bit more. “At first it was simple a tool to survive,” Renard continue. “But over time it grew on me and now? It has became a very dear hobby of mine.”

“It's an admirable skill, a skill I sadly lack,” Thomas said while watching the police Captain working gracefully around the kitchen; almost as if he were dancing. It was something of a beauty to watch. Thomas cleared his throat. “Honestly, I can't even boil an egg even if my life depends on it.” Laughing, Renard placed the smoking dish on the table. It smelled heavenly.

“Maybe all you need is someone to teach you.”

“Are you offering?” Was the first thing that came to Thomas’ mind, and before he could catch himself, he'd already said it. Painfully aware how right down flirtatious it sound like, Thomas instantly duck his head in embarrassment.

“I would be more than happy to teach you,” Renard replied without missing a beat. “But, how about I tell you my side of the story first? That's why you are here, is it not?” Thomas sigh with relief. In his attempt to avoid any further awkwardness, Thomas took a taste of the food- almost moaning in pure bliss as he did. _Damn that's good_.

“Please, do,” he said, taking another bite. “The food is amazing, by the way.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Renard replied. A warm sensation of pride swelled in his chest as he watch the younger man enjoying his cooking so wholeheartedly. It made Renard unreasonable happy. “Well, where to start? How about I tell you the first time we meet?” Thomas nod; his mouth too full to give a verbally respond. Smiling Renard start talking, barely paying attention to his own food as he did. Far to captivated by the sight of Nick before him to do little else.

“I first saw you six years ago. You were still a student at the academy at the time.” Looking back, Renard thinks. _You could almost call it love at first sight..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always. Love some kudos and comments from you ❤
> 
> Much love Nicole.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What's his name?” Renard asked, his steady stare fixed on the man. “And what can you tell me about him?”  
> “His name is Nick Burkhardt,” Hank informed him. “Smart lad. One of the top five in his class. He is well liked and,” Hank chuckled. “A darn good fighter.” That he is, Renard thinks to himself. Impressed by what he had seen so far. “Do you want me to introduce you two?” Hank offered.  
> “I would like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright then, two things before we move on to the story.  
> 1\. I deeply apologize for the delay. This chapter has been a true pain in my gorgeous ass. It simple didn’t wanted to be written. Nothing felt right, or good enough to show you guys. Truly, this has been a real struggle.  
> 2\. Secondly. And this is VERY IMPORTANT. In contrast to the show, I have decided to ditch the whole story about the Knights Templar and incorporate King Arthur and his Knights instead. Why? You will find out eventually. 
> 
> Now. With the formalities finally taken care of. Enjoy!

**Chapter Eighteen**

Loosening the tie around his neck Renard took a deep breath. He hated the damn thing. It always made him feel restricted, suffocated. Unfortunately, Renard had little to no choice but to wear it. It made him look sharp and professional, Jones had told him. Renard would rather tell the man to shut up, but asking the police captain to shove it, was a sure way to get fired. So, Renard kept his colorful opinion to himself. Besides, he won't be needing to keep asskissing Jones for much longer. The man was due to retire by the end of the month. Which is why Renard was currently visiting the police academy. As the future Captain of Portland Police Department, Renard was determined to have only the best in his disposal - people with sharp minds and strong personalities. And as such, Renard had assigned one of the detectives to keep an eye on the new recruits; to scout out those whom might fit the bill. The detective has been working with his assignment for a few weeks and Renard is curious to know how things has progressed. He is due to meet up with the detective to discuss the matter in person.

“Sir.” Speaking of the devil. Renard turned to greet the man.

“Hank,” Renard replied, shaking hands. “How is it going?”

“Good, sir. I've picked out eleven so far and I'm confident they'll meet your approval.”

“Sounds promising.” Hank nods in agreement. As they start walking, Hank explains why he sees each of them as fitted candidates.

“Then we have Jessica,” Hank told him. “A bright girl with a sharp sense of justice. Also, she is a lot tougher than she looks.”

As they entered the gym, Renard witnessed a large male being thrown to the floor. The man laid flat on his ass, groaning as a blond woman stood a few feet away, confident and strong. “Like I said. A tough cookie.” Renard whistle, clearly impressed. “I thought you might like her,” Hank said, grinning.

Renard were about to ask more about her when someone else caught his eye. Across the room Renard saw a young man, dressed in black t-shirt and sweatpants, facing a much larger man than the man’s own slimmer form. As striking as the man happened to be, it was not his beauty, nor was it the way the tight t-shirt snugged his body like a second skin – Although, Renard had to admit, it was rather distracting – that had drawn Renard’s curiosity, but rather the man’s aura. . The fact that his opponent being almost twice his size, didnâ€™t seem to faze him. On the contrary. The man appeared to be enjoying himself quite a bit. Still, Renard couldn’t help but to worry. A direct hit from a man that size could cause some serious damage. Renard knew he was being silly. It only made sense that they made their student's fight different opponents, the world wasn't fair after all. However, despite all logic and reasonable arguments, Renard was still very much concerned. Unfortunately, before Renard had the chance to prevent the match to take place, the fight was already in command. Only years of self-taught control stopped Renard from giving into his impulse to call out and order the man to stand down. Furthermore, such action from his part would surely do the young man more harm than good. There is the man’s pride to take into consideration after all. _It might have caused many to fall in battle,_ Renard thought as he helplessly watched from the sideline. _But a man’s pride is forever his own to throw away_.

When he was cast aside by his family, stripped down of his title and money, Renard lost everything except his pride. No one could take that away from him as long as he didn’t allow them to. And Renard would be damn sure not to take it away from someone whose eyes still shone with such intense fire, even if it causes physical harm. Therefore, Renard stood his ground.

Charging forward, the heavier man raised his fist, aiming for the head. Much to Renard’s surprise, the younger man didn’t as much as flinched. In fact, he'd look rather amused. Right before impact the man quickly sidestepped, avoiding the punch with ease; swiftly following it up with a forceful kick to the side. Hissing in pain the man pulled back, clearly expecting an easy win. Cursing the man retook his stance, fists up and close to his chest. The younger man kept his eyes firmly on the other, never taking his eyes off his opponent. Waiting. Calculating.

Observing the younger man’s composer from the sideline, Renard felt his concern for the man’s safety diminish drastically. Whoever he was, he clearly knew what he was doing. The subtle change in the young man’s stance was the only warning Renard got. With a cry the large man latched out, his fists tight in anger. Seemingly able to sense Renard’s concern, because surely, this fight had gone too far, Hank laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder; effectively preventing him from interfering. Detecting a glimmer of amusement in the detective’s eyes, Renard did as he was told. _What do you know that I don’t?_ Renard thought as he returned his attention to the fight.

Calmly, the young man blocked the punch with his arm, then fluently changed from defense to attack. Seizing the outstretched arm, the younger man swiftly twists his hip, and instantly flipped his opponent over and down on his back. Disarming him in an instant. Releasing his grip, the man stepped back with a satisfied grin. The cocky smile, combined with the display of raw power and lethal efficiency, made him a strong candidate on Renardâ€™s list of potential employees. In fact, Renard would gladly swap all the others on the list in favor of this man.

“I want him,” he blurts out, not feeling the least bit abashed about it. Renard had always been a straightforward man. Even at an early age he’d been upfront about what he wants, and Renard was dead set in having this man on his team. He had no doubt in his mind that he’d just found what he had been looking for – power and skills, everything wrapped in one body. But, as impressive the man might be, there was still room for improvements. Renard could practically _feel_ the power radiating from the man; he couldn't wait to help shape the man into his full potential. Renard grinned. It had been awhile since he'd been this excited. “Is he on the list?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the man. Hank chuckled.

“Matter of fact, he was my first candidate.” Renard could tell why. The young man was, well, incredible as far as Renard was concerned. And –

 

“W-wait, what? You thought I was incredible?” Renard blinked. Nick sat before him with his fork frozen in midair. Renard took a sip of his water. Stalling. He hadn't plan on the little slip-up. Well, screw it.

“I did. In fact, I still do.” Thomas almost dropped his fork. He couldn't believe Sean was able to admit such a thing with a straight face. Well, perhaps not completely. Thomas could have sworn he'd seen a soft blush on the Captain's cheeks during his confession. It made him smile. _Incredible, huh? I can live with that..._ Thomas thinks and takes a big mouthful of food, chews a bit, then starts talking around the last of it,

“Flattery will get you anywhere.” Renard huffs out a laughter.

“Perhaps. I was interested in you on the get-go, and honestly? I was rather desperate to have you join my department.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lip. It was a rather fond memory after all.

 

“What's his name?” Renard asked, his steady stare fixed on the man. “And what can you tell me about him?”

“His name is Nick Burkhardt,” Hank informed him. “Smart lad. One of the top five in his class. He is well liked and,” Hank chuckled. “A darn good fighter.” _That he is_ , Renard thinks to himself. Impressed by what he had seen so far. “Do you want me to introduce you two?” Hank offered.

“I would like that.”

“Alright then, wait here,” Hank said, heading their way. “Hey, Nick!” Hank called out. The man glanced up at the sound of his name, his face instantly lightened up as he made eyes with Hank. Renard watched, fascinated by the way the two interacted with one another. The ease, the friendly banter; it made Renard wonder just how close of friends they really were.

From where he was standing, Renard could hear the soft mumbles as the spoke, saw how Nick gave him a quick glance, more mumbles, then, much to Renard’s surprise, Hank doubles over with laughter. Curious Renard watched how the young man turned bright red, muttering something as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. Hank was still laughing when he turned to Renard, waving for him to join them. The deep blush on Nick's face was still burning when Renard reached them. He was highly tempted to ask him about it, but decided to keep his curiosity to himself.

“I apologize for interrupting your training,” Renard said instead, offering his hand in greeting. “But I wanted to speak with you.”

“It's alright, sir,” Nick replied, shaking his hand. “I was-” Interrupted by a string of curses, the bruised man picked himself up from the floor, glaring daggers at Nick, then took his belongings and left the gym with a small limp in his steps.

“Well, by the look of things,” Nick said, his eyes sparkling with untamed humor, “I do say I am just about done practice anyways.” Bemused Hank handle Nick a bottle of water, who gratefully took it. “So,” he asked, gulping down some of the water. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I don't know how much Hank has told you already, but I'll soon be promoting as Captain,” Renard explained. “And as such, I wish to recruit some new blood, so to speak.” Renard received a nod, but other than that, Nick stayed passive. _Probably don't want to assume anything at this point_ , thinks Renard, trying to get a reading of the guy. At first glance, Nick looked average. However, as beautiful as they might be, there was something about those baby-blue eyes that put Renard on edge. “Hank has told me a great deal about you,” he said, forcing his uncertainty aside.

“Has he now?” Nick replied, mischievousness twinkle in his eyes. “I knew I kept him around for a reason.” Beside him Hank rolled his eyes. Renard could see Nick struggling not to laugh. The whole ordeal was rather amusing to say the least.

“Yes. And your, um,  _demonstration_ , was most impressive.”

“I’m honored you say so, sir.” Nick said, ears turning slightly pink.

“Then, what would you say if I told you I want you on my team?”

“A-are you offering me a job?” Nick asked, unable to mask his surprise.

“I am.”

“Wow. I don't know what to say. But, um, unfortunately I have already been offered a job. A man named Roger working in Drugs and Vice Division called me a few weeks back. He said he found my essay on developmental perspective on antisocial behavior among substance abuser fascinating; asked if I was interested to join their division after graduation.” Renard glare at Hank, telepathically demanding why the hell he hadn’t been informed of this.

“Don’t scold Hank too much, sir,” Nick quickly adds, feeling somewhat guilty for having put Hank in the crossfire. “He didn’t know about the offer. I haven’t really told anybody about it.”

“Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed.” Honestly, Renard was rather furious by the fact that someone else had beat him to the punch. “You would have been a great asset, undoubtedly Roger saw this, too. He wouldn’t have reached out to you otherwise. The man is rater fastidious with whom he selects. You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am,” Nick replied. “It’s a good offer, not to mention a lifetime opportunity.” Renard agreed. There was no reason why Nick shouldn't accept. It was a good offer. Renard were about to wish the man the best of luck when he noticed a flicker of uncertainty in Nick’s eyes.

“Nick?”

“I, um… I haven’t exactly made up my mind yet,” he tells them. “I told him I would get back to him. I still have a few months before I graduate.” Renard felt a rush of hope. Perhaps everything wasn’t lost just yet.

“I see. Then, why not add me into your dilemma? I was serious about my offer; it would make me happy if you said yes. I am sure Hank feels the same way.” It was a dirty trick and Renard knew it, but he wasn’t above using Nick’s friendship with Hank as leverage if it helped to seal the deal. Sensing his uncertainty, Renard decides to take pity on the man. Reaching inside his jack pocket, Renard pulled out his card-case. “Here,” he said, handing Nick his card. “Think about it and give me a call.” Nick studied the card intensely, as if trying to memorize the information by heart. “I look very much forward to hear from you.”

“I will.” Nick promised. “Thank you, sir.” With a quick goodbye Renard turns to leave, surprised when Nick stopped him by the arm, saying: “I love the tie, sir.” He tells him, smiling and adds, “It suits you.” And just like that, Renard felt a sudden urge to send Jones a fruit basket.

 

“So, I decided to come and work for you, then?” Thomas asked, chewing the last of his food. Renard couldn't help smiling. The fact that Nick had chosen him instead of Roger still sparked a triumphant satisfaction inside of him. “What made me take you up on your offer?”

Renard frowned. “Don't really know,” he said. “You never told me. And quite frankly, I was just so excited when you called that I didn’t even consider asking. Are you done?” He asked, glancing down at the empty plate at the table.

“Oh! Yes,” Thomas quickly replied. “Thanks. It was delicious.”

“You're welcome.” Smiling Renard swiftly removes the plates, then puts them in water for later care. “Would you like some coffee?” He offered. “Or tea perhaps?”

“Coffee, please.” Renard sat the coffeemaker; pulled out two mugs while waiting for the coffee to brew. “One cube of sugar and cream, right?”

Frowning Nick looked at him. A glare not that different from the one he wears during a case – intense and observant. It reminded Renard about the time he first took notice of the detective’s alluring blue eyes all those years ago. _Good to know some things never change_ , Renard mused as he poured their coffee.

“How did you know?” Thomas asked, trying to appear relax and open, but Renard could see how high-strung he’d become.

“Relax, Nick. I’m not the enemy,” he said, putting the cream back in the fridge. “Let's continue our conversation in the living room,” he suggested. “It's much more comfortable.” Unfortunately, to Renard’s disappointment, Nick didn’t make any attempt to stand. In fact, the man was still glaring daggers at him. Standing by the door, with their coffee in his hands, Renard could do little else than wait; praying that there was still enough of the old Nick left to trust him. If not, well, Renard didnâ€™t want to think about it.

Thomas watched Sean worryingly. Thomas watched Sean worryingly. When he saw no indication of hostility or immediate threat, and based on Sean's behavior and, quite frankly, generous hospitality, Thomas conclude that he was, in fact, safe. At least for the time being. Standing, Thomas followed the man into the other room. If Sean’s goal was to harm him, surely, he would have done so already. _Not offer me lunch,_ Thomas thinks, rolling his eyes at his own idiocy. Carefully Thomas takes his usual seat in the sofa. Still, old habits are hard to shake. _The window is closed by if I need a quick escape_.

Renard noticed Nick's reluctance to relax, but made no comment on it. It had been a gamble on Renard’s part when he decided to reveal his knowledge about Nick's preference in coffee. He had hoped to reach an understanding, to provide with evidence of their friendship as such. Unfortunately, it seemed to have backfired.

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Nick. If you want to, you're free to leave. I won’t try to stop you.” This, much to Renard's relief, seems to ease the man considerably.

“If you’d try to stop me,” Thomas growled. “It would not end in your favor.” Unfazed by Nick's hostility, Renard made himself comfortable in the chair.

“I guess not,” he replied, calmly taking a sip of his coffee. Thomas slowly did the same. Pleasantly surprised by the rich flavor of the coffee, Thomas hummed happily at the back of his throat. _Damn, that’s good!_

“Not the cheap stuff,” Renard said, taking pleasure in the grimm’s blissed-out expression. “Imported from Columbia, actually.” Thomas snorts and the last portion of tension vanished from his shoulders. Renard was glad. It was rather upsetting to see Nick so obvious uncomfortable in his presence; enough to have Renard grit his teeth in anger at his brother’s selfish meddling, resulting a rift between tightknit friends and colleagues, distrust and pain.

“If you're not the enemy,” Thomas carefully says. “Then you won't mind telling me what happened that night out in the woods? And don't even think about lying. I'll know if you do.” Then adds. “I noticed your reaction during lunch earlier. Your eyes are surprisingly expressive.” Renard fought the urge to roll his eyes. _Of course,_ he did.

“You wouldn't be my best detective if you didn't,” Renard replied flatly. Thomas just shrugged his shoulder, waiting passively for Renard to start talking. Sighing, Renard caved. He’d promise to tell him after all. However, despite the opportunity to joggling Nick's memories; perhaps even get him back all together, Renard felt rather reluctant to share. Quite frankly, Nick had kicked his royal ass that night.

“It's rather embarrassing if I'm being honest,” Renard finally admits. Thomas frowned. “Yes. We did fight, but not for the reasons my brother has made you believe. What, if I may ask, _did_ my brother tell you?” Renard was genuinely curious to hear what kind of ludicrous story Eric had told Nick to create such immense distrust towards him.

The knowledge he wasn’t being trusted hurt Renard more than he cares to admit. It didn’t matter that Nick wasn’t remembering him or anyone from his previous life. It didn’t matter if Nick had woken up – gods knows where – with nothing beyond the small fragments of his memories; a _fraction_ of whom he is. It didn’t matter that paranoia was a common response for anyone in that kind of situation; or that Eric’s twisted tongue and wicked games only helped to add fuel to that fear and mistrust. None of that mattered. Because despite all logical reason, despite countless of hours trying not to take any of the grimm’s rejection to heart, Renard was still not immune to the pain. How it all _hurt_.

Heavyhearted Renard took a sip of his coffee. Hoping to get rid of the lump in his throat, it didn’t. _Is this how our relationship will be for now on? Distant and constantly second guess each other?_ Renard wasn't sure if he could handle the cold doubt in Nick's eyes for much longer. Saddened he put the lukewarm coffee back down on the table.

“He told me you were a criminal,” Thomas tells reluctantly. The fact that Sean knew how he preferred his coffee still unnerved him. Not even his own master knew that he liked it with cream, preferable room temperature than right out from the fridge. _Perhaps Sean do know me better than what master Eric implies,_ thinks Thomas, lost to the black and white surface of his coffee.

“He told me you were a lowlife crock and a bastard's son. That you were a disgrace to the family name and that you were banned from the castle; as such my mast – I mean, your brother, didn't want to have anything to do with you. To sum it up, you where the black sheep in the family.” Renard fought hard not to laugh out loud. If any of his family members fit the profile of the enfant terrible, it sure as hell would be Eric himself. Wisely, Renard kept that fact to himself. Nick was rattled enough as it was. The last thing Renard wants is to put more fume to the fire.

“When Eric learned about your criminal activities he decided it was as his duty, as your brother, to put an end to your selfless rampage.” Renard was proud of his self-control, he really was, but this was just too much, even for him. Unable to contain himself any longer, Renard burst out laughing, seemingly incapable to stop. Tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and his stomach was aching by the unfamiliar muscle spasm. Renard hadn't laughed this hard in years. Had he ever?

“I fail to see the amusement,” Thomas spats, gritting his teeth in obvious anger.

“I do apologize,” Renard huffs out between fits of laughter. “Just, I haven't heard anything more ludicrous in my life. Yes. It's true I'm a bastard's son and yes, some of my methods might be unethical, but Nick, my family - the same family you're _working for,_ have done far worse. Of course, it doesn't justify what I have done, but my actions are purely to keep myself alive; to protect this city and its people. My family on the other hand only strives to gain power and outshine its sister or brother. You have taste firsthand what my brother is capable of, have you not?” Thomas broken lip was a painful testimony to that. Sighting Renard crossed his hands in his lap.

“That night in the woods? Yes, we did fight. I won't deny that. You're just wrong about whom got the beatdown.”

“What is that supposed to mean?"

“My family had offered me a ticket back home in exchange for a curtain item,” Renard explained. “You might be familiar with it. It's said to have been in the possession of the famous knights of king Arthur. Noble warriors who swore to protect them with their lives. It's still debatable what they died to protect. Rumor has it that whoever finds it will be granted great power. To find it, you will need a map. Unfortunately, the map itself is divided in seven pieces. Which, complicates things.”

“You're talking about the keys, right?” Renard nods. “And you'll need all seven of them to locate whatever treasure the knights buried.”

“That's correct.”

“Your brother has me looking for the remaining keys in hope of finding its location. My master is rather desperate to find it.” Thomas realized his slip-up, but thankfully Renard didn't seem to mind the title this time around. Still, Thomas made a mental note to be more careful in the future. _And why is that?_ Thomas wondered. _Why do I disrespect my own master in favor of keeping Sean, a criminal, happy?_

“And he is not the only one,” Renard said, unknowingly cutting Thomas thought to an end. “Like I said, I was offered my royal status back in return of one of the keys. It was technically not mine to give, but I knew where it was, and I had easy access to it. Stealing it wouldn’t be too difficult. So, I did. I took it.”

“If that's the case, then-?”

“Why am I not sipping champagne and eat caviar in the castle with the rest of my family? Because I didn't give them the key as promised. I realized that I could gain something much more valuable.”

“What can possibly be more valuable than the influence of being a prince?”

“A partnership with a grimm.” Thomas felt the air left him in a rush. “Regaining my former status as a royal would certainly give me privileges, but with a grimm on my side? To help me rule the city, to keep peace and order; to bring back the old ways - royalties and grimm’s, working  _together_ as one unit to achieve what's best for the people. How could I possibly turn a blind eye to such a rare opportunity?

I admit, it was a risky move. I could lose everything just as easily, but my gut instinct told me it would be worth it, and I was right. I never once regret my decision.”

“That's nice, I suppose. But how is this connected to me, or us fighting in the woods?”

“The key I stole? It belonged to you, Nick.”

“W-what?”

“I found it in your desk at the office. Somehow you figured out who I really was and called me on my phone - demanding to meet. I agreed.” Thomas swallowed. His throat suddenly gone dry.

“Why the woods? The cabin? What made that location so special?”

“Because it was where you solved your first case as a grimm,” Renard explained. “It was my way of telling you that I knew about your transition from the very beginning; that I had your back, not only as my detective but as a grimm as well.”

Thomas gulped down the last of his coffee. “A-and the fight?”

Renard chuckled. “Before I could even try to explain myself, your fist almost dislocated my jaw.” Thomas made a choking noise. “After that, you kicked my ass. Left some pretty nasty bruises, I might add.”

Thomas instinctively wanted to object - to tell Sean off, even accuse him of lying. How much damage could he have possibly inflicted when it had been him, not Sean, who had end up at the hospital? Thomas stared down at his hands, confused. He could almost feel the phantom pain in his right hand. Sighting Thomas shut his eyes. Images blurring together in one big mess. It made his head throb painfully behind his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Renard asked, worryingly. Nick looked positively ashen.

“Y-yeah. I'm fine,” Thomas lied, pushing down the nausea rolling in his stomach. “How did the fight end?” Frowning Renard watched Nick carefully. The grimm really didn’t look too well. Deciding not to push, Renard went on with the story.

“Well, after a bit of kicking and pounding, I manage to return the key back to you. You were confused, obviously. So, I explained myself. Told you that I didn't trust my family. In fact, I didn't trust you either.”

“If you didn't trust me, then why bother returning the key?”

“Trust and knowing someone is two separate things. I might not have trusted you, but I knew that the key would be safe with you - safe from my family. And I've yet to be proven wrong.” Because, as far as Renard’s intel went, Nick's key was still situated somewhere in Portland. Its exact location was still unknown, and Renard preferred to keep it that way.

“I see your point,” Thomas said, comparing it to his own relationship with master Eric. Despite his unpredictable nature, Thomas trust Eric to have his back, but at the same time, he knew little to nothing about the man himself. Thomas lets loose a sigh. There was something scratching at the back of his mind, something important.

“Something happened that night,” Thomas said, sensing that something crucial was amiss. “Something I didn't expected – something about you. It surprised me, but I can't…” For a split second the picture of Sean’s face flashed before his eyes, skin scarred and disfigured, marring the man’s otherwise handsome face. Thomas hurled forward. His body shook violently, and intense pain explode behind his eyes.

“Nick!” Jolting up from his seat, Renard was before him in an instant. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frantically searching for any explanation to Nick's sudden distress. “Talk to me.” Thomas tried to respond, but a wave of lightheadedness washed over him, forcing him to helplessly lean into the other man for support.

Renard instinctively wrapped his arms around Nick’s shaking form, keeping him from falling over. Nick lets out a distressed whine at the gesture. Not knowing what else to do, Renard threaded his fingers through Nick’s raven hair, gently scrunched his scalp - something his mother use to do to him when he was a kid. Renard only hoped it would help soothe the pain. Thankfully, Nick seemed to gradually relax in his hold; so, Renard kept stroking, marveled how soft the locks were between his fingers. He could easily do this for hours, sitting here with Nick in his arms, _carrying_ for him. Letting out a sigh of contentment, Renard slide his hand from Nick’s hair down to his jaw, angling Nick’s head to look him in the eye.

“Are you okay?” Blinking, Thomas shook his head, trying to remove the image of Sean’s disfigured face from his mind.

“N-no, I…” Nick’s eyes suddenly went wide, fearful and mistrusting. Renard felt his heart drop in his chest.

“Nick, what –”

“Y-you are a wesen?” Renard frowned, then it clicked.

_Well, shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always. Love to hear your thought or a sweet Kudos before you leave.  
> Much love, Nicole.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stop struggling,” Renard said, his voice rougher than Thomas had ever heard it. “I won't hurt you. I promise.” The man’s laboured breath tickled against Thomas skin, it sent a pleasant tingle down his spine. Mortified to find himself growing hard in his pants, Thomas decided to resolve it with anger.  
> “Then release me,” he growled. “Or I'll kick your ass like I apparently done before.” His threat was all but empty words at this point. The Captain had the upper hand and, well, upper everything, but damn it all to hell if Thomas wouldn't at least bitch about it.  
> Renard chuckled. There was the Nick he knew and loved.  
> “I would like to see you try,” he said, strengthened his hold around Nick's wrist. The grimm hissed, but Renard was being  
> careful to not add too much pressure. He wasn't lying about his unwillingness to harm him. Still, having Nick trapped underneath him, panting and up-close, made Renard thinking about other, more pleasant ways to hurt someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Christmas present from me to all of you. A small token of my appreciation for your endless patient. I hope you will like it.

**Chapter 19**

At first the images in Thomas head made no sense, but as the vision of Sean’s disfigured face kept reappearing behind his eyes in repeat session, the pieces soon fell in to place. A cold terror pooled in his chest as the shocking truth made itself clear.

“You’re a wesen?” He asked, hating how his voice shook. His heart thumped violently in his chest and Thomas checked that his knife was still tucked away safely at the back of his jeans. 

“I am, yes.” Thomas felt the air left him in a rush. Even if suspecting as much, Sean’s answer still took him by surprise. “And you are right. During our fight that night, you got your first glint of my other self.” Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Thomas took an unsteady breath, then asked:

“What are you?” Despite his reservation, Thomas was curious to know. As the question obviously put the other man on edge, Thomas ought he might not receive any reply all together. Which is why, what happens next, completely took him off guard. The moment Renard shifted into his wesen form, Thomas instincts immediately kicked in. Jerking backwards Thomas drew his knife, aiming for the throat.

Quickly blocking the blade with his arm, Renard swiftly grabbed onto Nick’s wrist, then pulled and dragged the man down to the floor in one smooth session. Renard follows it up by catching the young man’s wrists in his own larger hands, effectively disarming Nick with minimum damage. Receiving a low curse from the grimm beneath him, Renard tightened his hold on the man. Even if Renard did half expect the response, it still stung quite a bit knowing that Nick held no reservation in harming him. What _did_ surprise him, however, was how easily Nick had succumbed. Normally the grimm would had put up much more of a fight. This wasn’t like him at all. Taking a closer look at the trapped man underneath him, Renard was instantly concerned by what he saw. Nick was worryingly pale, his eyes slightly glazed over and unfocused. But, what worried Renard the most was his breathing, ragged and unsteady. Alarmed, Renard eased up his grip, but his self-preservation still strong enough not to let go completely. Nick was still very dangerous, despite his weakened state. “Nick, are you alright?” He recieved no reply. 

Dizzy and sluggish, it took Thomas embarrassingly long for his mind to catch up with the situation. The moment he did however, he instantly tried to break loose. The knife was lying on the floor not too far away, all he’d need to reach it was to get one of his arms free. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Renard was just as strong as he looks, and Thomas was ashamed to admit, but he felt weak as a kitten. The episode from earlier was still affecting him, leaving him almost defenceless. Didn’t mean he’d roll over and give up. Twisting and struggling, Thomas tried to pull himself loose, but the grip around his wrist was secured, the weight on top of him heavy and firm.

“Stop struggling,” Renard said, his voice rougher than Thomas had ever heard it. “I won't hurt you. I promise.” The man’s laboured breath tickled against Thomas skin, it sent a pleasant tingle down his spine. Mortified to find himself growing hard in his pants, Thomas decided to resolve it with anger.

“Then release me,” he growled. “Or I'll kick your ass like I apparently done before.” His threat was all but empty words at this point. The Captain had the upper hand and, well, upper _everything_ , but damn it all to hell if Thomas wouldn't at least bitch about it.

Renard chuckled. There was the Nick he knew and loved.

“I would like to see you try,” he said, strengthened his hold around Nick's wrist. The grimm hissed, but Renard was being careful to not add too much pressure. He wasn't lying about his unwillingness to harm him. Still, having Nick trapped underneath him, panting and up-close, made Renard thinking about other, more _pleasant_ ways to hurt someone. _It would be so easy_ , Renard thought, gazing down at the smaller man. _Those lips… God, I want to taste them. All I need to do is to reach down and claim them, opening his mouth with my tongue and plunder it_. Renard moaned softly. The familiar heat of arousal burned, and Renard felt his cock began hardening in his pants. _Fuck, this is bad_.

“Why did you woge before me?” Thomas suddenly asks. “You know what I am, and yet you turned.” So, the question remains: Why?

“Because I trust you.” Thomas shook his head in disbelief.

“How can you trust me when you know what I am?” He was baffled about the level of trust Sean had bestowed upon him. Thomas was a grimm. It was in his nature to kill people like Sean without second thought. So why, why did Sean ignore the danger? “I can kill you,” Thomas stated. “In fact, I _should_ kill you.”

“But you won’t,” Renard said with utter confident.

“How can you have such a faith in me?” Renard sigh heavily.

“I trust you because I know who you are. You might be a grimm, yes, but you are also a cop; a good man. You never kill wesen for sport. You only resolve to kill as a last resort. _That’s_ the kind of man you are, Nick.” The fight left Thomas in an instant. The words resonated with him and at some level, Thomas knew that Sean was telling him the truth. He exhaled, shakily.

“To answer your earlier question,” Renard says, releasing his hold on the detective. “I am a Zauberbiest, but I am not pure.” Thomas frowns.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asks, slowly sitting up. Sighting, Renard returned to his seat. Thomas follows him with his gaze. He was still worry about Renard’s beast.

“My father is human,” he tells him. “A king, but my mother on the other hand, is a Hexenbiest.” Thomas arced a curious eyebrow at the thought.

“I can’t imagine your father being very happy about that,” he says. Deciding it to be safe enough, Thomas removes himself from the floor and back to the couch.

Renard chuckles. “No. He threw quite the tantrum when he found out," Renard says, amused. "Because of the two-different nature of my parent’s blood, as well as the fact that my mother was not the queen, or royal by blood, I became a bastard’s son, a half-breed.

When my _true nature,_ so to speak, became knowledge among my family, I was immediately banished from the castle and my home town. Together with my mother, we fled in the middle of the night. We travelled for days until we reached a small village where we were offered shelter and food. The people was kind to us, but we dared only to stay for a short while. My father and his men were still on our tail. It would be unsafe for us, as well for the people who took us in. On the fifth day, we left. Managing to reach the harbour undetected, we climbed aboard one of the many ships who was about to set sail. For weeks we were at sea, until finally we reached France - a city where no one knew who we were. A safe-haven, where we could start over. I was enrolled into a public-school the next year. I continued my studies in France, I even decided to stay after graduation.”

“Sounds like you had made yourself quite at home,” Thomas points out. “Why did you leave?”

“I was being recognized by one of my father's many spies on my way home from the market. I spotted him as well, so I was not surprise when my apartment was ransacked later that evening. I called my mother who moved away the year before, to warn her. We left France the very next day.”

“Why Portland of all places?” Thomas asked, genuinely curious. Portland seemed to be a rather unremarkable city for a prince, half blood or not, to live in. “Surely there are more spectacular places in the world to make your home.” Renard laughed, pleased by the man's bluntness. He'd missed it quite a bit. A trait Renard appreciated in the man. Nick wasn't afraid to speak his mind, no matter to whom. Nick had treated Renard with the same attitude as towards anyone else. He made no distinct difference in his behaviour despite Renard's rank and blood. He greeted anyone as equals. A refreshing breeze to say the least.

“My choice of location was much out of strategically advantage as it was for sentimental reasons. Like you said, there is no real hotspot in Portland. No-one would even think to look for me there. It's safe. Also, the few fond memories I have from my childhood is here in Portland,” Renard tells him, smiling softly as he speaks. Thomas is not sure the Captain is even aware of doing so. It made the tension in his shoulders relax a little, but sadly, it was more than what could be said about his head. Groaning, Thomas gently rubbed his forehead with his fingers, hoping to ease some of the tension.

“Headache?” Renard asks, worryingly. Nick still looked rather pale. Receiving all but a nod from the detective, Renard stood. “Wait here.” Thomas simply grunts in reply, too far gone to even consider leaving, not to mention reaching for his knife. Just in case. “I have some aspirin, if you would like some?” Renard offered, then sat the glass down with a soft thud.

“No, thank you,” Thomas replies. “I have my own poison.” _It might taste like shit, but at least it helps_ , he thinks, pulling out the familiar bottle of pills from his pocket. “I have a lot of headaches,” Thomas explains when he sees the questioning look on the man's face. “As such, your brother thought it would be best to describe something for it.” Renard felt his eyebrows knitting themselves together.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing at the bottle in the detective's hand. Thankfully Nick only hesitates for a brief second. Renard wasn't sure he could take much more of Nick's mistrust today. “Thanks. What are they?” Renard wonders, studying the green pills closely.

“Not sure what's really in them,” Thomas tells him. “But they do help with the pain.”

“Would it be alright if I kept one?” Renard asked. Offering no explanation to his sudden interest in the drug. Afraid that by telling Nick the truth, he might earn a flat no, but Renard refuse to lie to Nick when the bond between them was already fragile. If possible, Renard would rather avoid lying to the detective all together. Unfortunately, the truth wasn’t always optional.Thomas shrugs his shoulders. Seeing no harm in letting Sean have one. _I need to ask Jinkins for more anyway_ , he thinks. Noticing the time, Thomas sigh. Nothing like the present. 

“Well, as wonderful as it has been,” Thomas said, draining the last of his water. “It's time to head back. If not, your brother might get suspicious.” Renard shook his head, frustrated.

“I rather you didn’t return to him at all,” he growls. “Your place is not by his side. Your home is here, with –”

“You?” Thomas finished. “I have told you before. I will not abandon my master. Just being here is a breach of trust, but I refuse to go the extra mile to betray him. I thought I had made myself clear.”

“You did. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Picking the glass up, Renard walked to the kitchen where he disposed it in the sink with the rest of the dishes. “In fact-” Halting in mid sentence, Renard scanned the now empty room.

The window was wide open.

Disappointed he strides over to the window and shuts it. This was not exactly how he’d wished for this encounter to end. With longing in his eyes, Renard scanned the below streets in foolish hope to spot the familiar shape of Nick's retreating back. He found no such thing. Sighting Renard turned to head back to the kitchen, there was dishes to take care of after all, when he noticed Nick's discarded knife on the floor. Carefully picking it up, Renard weigh it in his hand. He was rather surprised by its lightness and simplicity, a far cry from the exquisite sword he’d witness back at the castle. Black, sleek and deadly; just like Nick. Renard found his thought running to the man himself. A recurrent phenomenon as of lately. The vision of Nick, all dressed in tight black leather, snuggling his body like a second skin, was quite the wonderful thought. How it would be to finally touch him, to feel him grow hard through the rough material as Renard rubbed him to full hardness. Groaning Renard felt himself stiffening in his pants a second time in less than half an hour. He only wished he could have Nick underneath him in more pleasurable settings; like in his bed, upstairs where he could spend hours exploring Nick’s body, kissing him, lick–

Hissing in sudden pain, Renard watched as blood oozed from the freshly made cut on his thumb. Cursing Renard sucked his thumb to his mouth, turning to the kitchen in search for some bandage to treat his wound. _Pleasure and pain, right…_

 

In hope to avoid being caught red-handed, Thomas used the servant entrance by the back. It might still be hours till master Eric would sound the alarm of his absent, but Thomas do rather be safe than sorry. Shutting the door behind him he walked the few stairs up and to the kitchen. Inside the staff was already in full swing with dinner preparations. As quiet as possible, Thomas exited and made a hasty retreat towards the stairs, hoping he would be able to reach his room without being detected. A little bit further and–

“Thomas.” Cursing, Thomas reluctantly halted. It seems his luck just ran out. Thomas greeted with a quick 'hello, sir' while watching the man approaching from down the hallway. Thomas felt his shoulders tens instinctively as Eric finally reached him. He’d not yet forgot the punch he received yesterday evening for his trouble of protecting Judas from Eric’s wrath. “What have you been up to?” Eric asks, never taking his eyes off the grimm.

Thomas immediately picked up on the lingering anger in his master’s body language; his rigged posture, tight knitted eyebrows and stormy eyes. Thomas licked his lips nervously. He’d rather avoid a second fistfight if possible. **Then lying and going against orders is probably not the way to go** , the beast chuckles darkly. Keeping from rolling his eyes, Thomas pushed the beast aside.

“I have been in the library, sir,” Thomas replies. The lie flow easily on his tongue. He’d been practicing the story the whole ride home. “I kind of lost time, as always,” he admits, sheepishly running his fingers through his hair. Eric studies the grimm in silence. He’d been in his office majority of the day. Anger still riling hotly after the latest fiasco of a string of many. It was crucial that they located the sword. Having the grimm under his thumb would only be half a success if they did not find it, and the truth irked Eric to no end.

“Dinner is ready,” he simply says. Thomas felt his stomach knotted itself unpleasantly.

“Sorry, sir. But I won’t be joining you this evening.” Noticing the frown deepening, and how the lines around Eric’s mouth turned sharper, Thomas quickly adds: “My stomach is bothering me.”

“Perhaps you should speak with Jinkins,” Eric suggests. “He might not look too much to the world, but he knows a great deal about illness. I would never have hired him as my doctor otherwise.”

“I will, thank you.” Thomas bow his head, then briskly walks away before his master could ask any further questions.

Watching him go, Eric frowns. Sensing something was at miss, Eric debatted whatever or not to follow when he was broken out of his revelry by a flicker of movements out of the corner of his eyes. Turning, Eric saw the young servant who had angered him the day before. Smirking he walks over. The boy was too preoccupied with his task not spilling the gravy to even notice.

“Young man,” he said, causing the boy to jump in surprise. Eric was pleased with the reaction. Fear made them that much easier to manipulate. “What’s your name?”

“J-Judas, sir,” the boy replies, his hands shaking, and his knuckles were white around the handle. Eric’s smile widens. Very pleased indeed.

“Judas, I have a job for you,” Eric tells him, turning his gaze down the hallway where Nick had disappeared. “You are not allowed to speak about it, nor are you allow to ask any questions. You will report directly to me without any distraction. Have I made myself clear?” Judas nods, listening as his master explains his task.

Kailee found Judas bend over the toilet, throwing up. Frowning she let him be. There was a dinner to serve after all.

 

Halfway to his room Thomas ran into Jinkins.

“Ah, Jinkins. The man I was looking for.”

“Sir?” The old man asks, smiling softly. Thomas had only interacted with the old doctor a few times, but he liked the man quite well. Jenkins was a soft spoken and a brilliant man. Also, Jenkins was a wonderful conversationalist, a skill Thomas gladly explored from time to time. Thomas made a mental note to try and find the time for another conversation with the doctor in a near future.

“I am running low on the meds you prescribed me,” Thomas explains. “I will need a refill pretty soon.” Jinkins looked puzzled.

“Medicine, sir? What kind of medicine?” Thomas fished out the bottle from his pocket. Jenkins took it, examining it closely. “I am sorry, sir. But I do not recognize this drug. Who did you say gave it to you?” Thomas didn’t know how to respond to that. Who else but Jinkins could possibly have prescribed it?

“Oh, I am sorry. My mistake. I must have gotten confused,” he says, taking the bottle back. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

“Of course not, sir. If there is anything else I can help you with, all you need to do is ask.” Nodding and after a quick 'thank you', they parted. _What the hell is going on?_ Thomas thinks, watching the doctor go. Jinkins reaction was not the only thing being questionable, but his own behaviour around Sean was rather strange as well. Since when did he care so much about the man’s happiness? So much in fact that he completely discarded master Eric’s title all together. Furthermore, and perhaps most worryingly of it all, was his own reaction to have the Captain in such a close proximity to his own body. Thomas hate to admit it, but he had enjoyed it quite a bit. Which was just as mortifying as it was exhilarating. _Makes one wonder what else he hides behind those fancy clothes of his_ , he thinks as he finally reaches his room.

“He sure as hell felt fit,” Thomas muses, shutting the door behinds him. 

 

Dishes done and tucked away, Renard fished his phone out. Hopping to get some answers. The receiver picked up almost immediately.

_“Yes, hello?”_

“Hey, its me. I was wondering if it would be possible to meet tomorrow. It’s about Nick,” he said, fiddling with the small pill he’d been given from the detective earlier.

 _“Well, yes. Of course. Would you like me to call Juliette?”_ Renard winced at the thought.

“I do rather you did not,” he says. “I doubt she has little to offer in the matter.” There was no immediately reply.

 _“It's not really a question of usefulness, now is it? It’s about what’s right,”_ she tells him. _“She loves Nick, it’s not fair to keep her out of the loop.”_ Renard bit his tongue. Juliette might be Nick's girlfriend, but she was far from worthy of his affection. Her recent action of giving up on him was a testimony to that.

“What time?” He asks instead. Renard could hear the woman sigh over the phone. Juliette was a bitter topic, and she had no doubt the feeling was mutual. It was no secret that the feelings between the two was toxic, resentful and unforgiven.

 _“Whenever suits you,”_ she replies. _“I will be in the shop all day. Come by when you have the time.”_ Satisfied with their arrangement Renard said goodbye and cut the call. His attention returning to the drug in his hand.

“Let’s see what else my brother is feeding you besides lies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it and I look very much forward to read your thoughts and opinions, as always!  
> Much love Nicole <3


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need to calm yourself, Thomas,” Ivan tells him. “Your mind is somewhere else. Your emotions are running wild, as your temper. It makes you vulnerable, wide open for attacks. It's only a matter of time before you hurt yourself.” Thomas immediately want to shoot the accusation down the drain, but he knew what Ivan said was the truth. He was too emotional right now.  
> “As you wish,” he reluctantly says. Pleased that his pupil sees reason, Ivan lets him be. Sighing Thomas removed his sword and put it away for the time being. He'd need to center himself. Taking a seat on the floor Thomas shut his eyes, breathing deeply in hope to calm himself. His temper had been an issue since he woke up – caused by the erotic dream he'd had – which had left him in foul mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a real struggle. It simply didn’t want to be written. Sigh. I honestly celebrated with a glass of wine and a pat on the shoulder for a work well done when I was finally done with it. I hope it will be to your liking. All mistakes are my own, and feel free to comment. Enjoy!

**Chapter Twenty**

Smooth, tempting skin stretched before him. Hair, the same color as a raven's feather tickled his chest as sweet, hot kisses played with his nipples and down his chest. A smoky voice groans, the sound punctured by a shuddering breath. Strong hands wrapped around him, bringing him closer to burning skin. Long fingers dig into his hips, blunt nails leaving half-moon shapes behind, possessively. The scent of sweat and expensive cologne invaded his nose as a warm mouth suddenly fussed with his own, nibbling his lips and licks his way inside – completely claiming him with wild determination. He moans, feeling slightly lightheaded as he tastes the remaining wine from their dinner. Slowly opening his eyes, he is met with dark, green eyes, sparkling with hunger and fondness. It took his breath away. Running his fingers through his lover's hair, gently guiding their lips back together.

“Sean…”

Thomas sits up, breathing hard. It takes him a moment to gather his senses, to remember the evens from the day before – the dinner, the conversation and revolution about the captain's true nature. But most of all, what stuck to Thomas the most, was the heaviness of the man’s body on top of his own, firm and solid; a grip strong but never to harm him. Sighing Thomas shut his eyes, still able to feel the hot puff of air against the shell of his ear. A spark of arousal made his already aching cock twist and hum in eager. Looking down at his member, standing proud and heavy, Thomas found himself rather annoyed with himself. It was such an embarrassment, having an erotic dream with the man – whom not only was responsible for his compromise situation regarding his lack of memory, but also in heavy dispute with his master. No matter how you looked at it, Thomas was screwed. _Master Eric would have a small seizure if he ever finds out,_ Thomas thinks grimly. Unfortunately, Thomas was now left with a rather frustrating problem, not to mention dilemma. Glaring down at his cock accusingly, feeling it mocking him in its refusal to go down. Thomas was tempted to just take care of it and go on with his day, but his pride would take a serious beating if succumb to the urge to touch himself. As firm as he was in his believes to ignore it, Thomas felt his determination waiver and crumbling rapidly. _No one needs to know, right?_

Feeling his last remaining strain of resistance snap, Thomas grabs hold of his heavy member tightly and shudders. He thumbs at the tip of the head and groans. Attempting to keep the sounds from escaping, Thomas bits his lip. God help him if anyone where to hear him pleasure himself! Tremor wrecked his body as pleasure shot through his vain, lightning him from the inside. Spurred on by his desire to come, he adds his other hand. Playing softly with his balls, Thomas increase the tempo of his hand jerking himself closer to climax. Pre-come dripping from his cock makes it smooth and easy. Eager and fueled by how good it feels, Thomas plants his feet flat on the mattress and pushes up, fucking into his own hand with gusto. Shutting his eyes Thomas can’t stop his mind from running wild. Imagine himself being touched by much larger, and rougher hands than his own. Thomas almost come in an instant. _I bet Sean’s hands feels fucking amazing,_ Thomas muses, as his hand goes from his balls and further down. Fingering the rim of his hole, Thomas breath hitches. Slowly he carefully inserts a finger, shuddering as he is being breached. The tight muscle instantly clamped down around his finger, squeezing it. Frowning, Thomas wonders when he was last being touched in such an intimate way. He can’t remember. Adding a second finger, a mild pain at the stretch makes him hiss. _It's been a while then,_ he thinks, slowly working himself open. Pushing the fingers deeper inside of him, Thomas was suddenly overflowed with intense pleasure. Moaning out loud, Thomas came almost violently. Panting and gasping for air Thomas fell back down on the bed. Covered in sweat and come Thomas felt disgusting, but his body was still reeling from his orgasm to even consider about moving. However, the afterglow was rather short-lived as reality of what he’d done came crashing down upon him.

“Dammit,” he mutters, looking disgustingly at the mess he'd made on his chest. Leaving the bed with a string of curses Thomas walked toward the bathroom, eager to get rid of all traces of his disgraceful behavior. “Good fucking morning to me too.”

 

Hunched over his desk Renard frowned as he read the file before him. He'd been over it for the last hour and a half; memorizing every word and detail the crime scene had to offer – which was shockingly little. In fact, there were no forensic evidence of the culprit left behind at all.

Sighing Renard shut the casefile close. The killings were executed with impressive skills, speed and precision. Renard would even go so far and say it was professionally done. A hitman? Frowning Renard mused the idea over. It would explain the variety of victims and the lack of evidence. Then, ordered by whom? And for what reasons? But perhaps most importantly, why now all of a sudden? Sure, the city has been dealt with a numerous of deaths of the years, but never quite like this before. What has changed, and what triggered this gruesome – yet elegant – killing spree? Feeling the familiar sign of an approaching headache Renard removed himself behind his desk. Rom wasn’t built in a day; even if the risk of another victim increases each day, there was no point working himself to the ground. Furthermore, he'd slept rather poorly last night. His mind constantly returning to the events from the day before, re-creating it, overthinking every word and reaction from both their parts. The dinner with Nick had been pleasant, Renard would even go so far and say it had been wonderful. He'd wish to dine with Nick once more, and with a little help, he might be able to.

Noticing the time Renard grabs his jacket and keys, pocketing his phone while exit his office. On his way to the elevator his attention was drawn to Hank sitting behind his desk doing paperwork. Reminded by his earlier curiosity Renard halts. Despite being in a bit of a rush, he walks over.

“Hank, may I bother you for a minute?”

“Of course,” Hank says, laying aside the papers he'd been working on. “Does it have anything to do with Nick?” He asks, slightly concerned for his younger partner.

“In a way, yes,” Renard tells him, taking a seat at the outskirt of the desk. “Do you remember the time I sent you to the academy to scout out new recruits?”

“Yeah, it's where I met Nick, as did you.” A wide grin formed on the detective’s face. “I remember you being rather engrossed with him back then. And I suspect you still are, quite a bit in fact.” Hank adds teasingly. Doing his best to appear unaffected Renard lets the jab slide.

“Before you introduced me, the two of you were talking. Nick said something to you that made you laugh. I was wondering what that might have been.” Hank frowns at his Captain, confused. It's been years after all. “It made him rather bashful, whatever it was you told him.”

“Bashful? Somehow I doubt Nick is even able to-” The rest of the sentence remained unsaid as realization suddenly kicked in. Remembering the conversation, and what exactly had been said, Hank burst out laughing; earning himself a rather perplexed look from the other man. Shaking his head in amusement Hank dried the tears with his sleeve.

“Well?” Renard asks, a bit annoyed by being left out.

“S-sorry, sir,” Hank huffs out between laughter. “But I believe it's up to Nick to decide whatever to share it with you or not.” Sensing heavy objection from the other man, Hank quickly adds. “However, what I can tell you is that he appreciated your suit.”

“My _suit_?” Renard says, failing to see what that had anything to do with Nick's reaction, or Hank's laughter now and then. Realizing any attempts to make the detective talk would be in vain, Renard admit defeat. “Fine,” he sighs, frustrated to be denied of the information.

“I expect your paperwork to be on my desk when I get back.” Payback is a bitch. Groaning Hank watch the man leave, positive that his Captain was taking great pleasure in his misery. Still, it wasn’t enough to stop him from smiling.

“If only our dear Captain knew he'd had Nick right from day one,” he muses, returning to his work with a light chuckle.

Arriving at the shop with minutes to spare, Renard was forced to wait since there is still a customer in need of assistance. Patiently waiting for the nagging woman to get on with it and leave, Renard takes the opportunity to browse around. Despite visiting the store, a handfuls of times, he'd never really took the time to explore. Curiously he examines the bottles lined on the shelves. Renard finds himself rather impressed by the vast selection the shop had to offer. Perhaps he could find something to help with his headache? Interrupted by the small sound of the bell ringing above the door Renard turns his attention back to the front of the shop. The owner turns the sign on the door, telling that the shop is closed, before greeting him.

“I’m sorry for disturbing your business,” Renard tells her, offering a small apologize. “Unfortunately, I believe it could be rather urgent.”

“You said it has something to do with Nick,” Rosalee says. “Of course, I will help.” Sharing her desire to help Nick out, and bring him back home, Renard felt a new-found respect for the woman. He was grateful that Nick had such wonderful friends. “So, what is it you need my help with?” Fishing out the pill from his jack pocket, Renard handed it over to her.

“Nick visited me yesterday, in my apartment.” _God only knows how he manage to sneak in all the time._ Taking the pill handed to her, Rosalee examined it curiously. The news about Nick seeking them out – or rather Renard, was quite the surprise. Why go to Renard and not Juliette, or Monroe? Surely Nick shared a more profound bond with either of them, even she herself made more sense. Not to mention Hank. Putting her thoughts into words, Rosalee ask him as such. “Not sure myself,” Renard admits. “Nick said it had to do with my brother’s fabricated story about me being responsible for his memory loss, and how it clashed with his… instinct? How something felt off and he'd need to confirm it for himself.”

“Are you saying his memories is coming back to him?” Renard frowned, thinking how best to respond. It's true that Nick had made some progress in retrieving them, but it's still a very long way to go before Nick is back to who he used to be, if that’s even possible consider the amount of time Nick has been associating himself as Thomas rather than Nick. However, there were moments when Renard had his doubts to whom he was talking with – Thomas, or Nick? The fact that Nick didn’t bother to correct him even once whenever Renard did call him by his given name instead of Thomas, hadn’t escaped his attention. It gave him hope.

“Perhaps,” Renard finally says. “He is still loyal to my brother, but there has been a change in his persona. Eric has done a good job twisting Nick around his finger. Portraying us as the enemy only strengthen his hold on him. Unfortunately for my brother, he oversaw one crucial element in his plan.”

“And what is that?”

“Nick is a good cop, but he is also a grimm,” Renard tells her. “I think his subconscious is trying to guide him back somehow. Right now, Nick is missing a numerous of pieces of the puzzle. What he once believed to be true is now being questioned. His already unstable foundation is cracking underneath him since doubt has starting to grow inside of him.

The reality my brother has created for him do no longer adds up with the new information that has been given him. Right now, Nick is confused, and admittingly scared of the prospect if what might happen to him if what my brother has told him is all a lie. Which adds to my beliefs that Nick is currently running on his instincts. Nick knows that he is being lied to, but by whom is still unclear. The only way for him to find out is to treat both part as suspects – in other words, investigate further and trust no one.”

“Make sense. Then, what has this to do with Nick?” She asks, referring to the pill in her palm.

“Yesterday Nick gained a headache, and he took that pill to help with the pain. I asked him about it, but said he had no idea what it really was, only that it helped. I want to know what it is, what it's made of. I doubt its poisons, but I'd sleep better at night.”

“I will look into it right away,” she promises. Renard felt relieved. Grateful for her help. “I will give you a call as soon as I find anything.”

“Thank you. I highly appreciate it.” Wishing her a pleasant day Renard left the shop.

 

“You're lacking focused Thomas,” the man tells him, deflecting the sword with his own. “And ease up on your attack. There is too much power, it makes you slow to parry your opponent's attack.” Thomas glares at Ivan, his trainer in swordsmanship for the last three weeks. Master Eric did finally grant his wise to be trained by someone with the ability to move. The selection process had been long, but Thomas believe it to be justified. Ivan was amazing, and a good teacher. But right now, Thomas was far too angry to appreciate the swordsman’s help.

Gritting his teeth in frustration Thomas charged forward, aiming for the chest. Ivan blocked it with a simple twist of his blade, which only aggravated Thomas further. Before Thomas could counter the other man ordered the match to stop. Thomas instantly halted. Sliding his sword back into its scabbard; Ivan stepped aside. Frowning Thomas lowered his sword, confused to why they stopped.

“We are taking a 15 minutes break.”

“What? No. I don’t –”

“You need to calm yourself, Thomas,” Ivan tells him. “Your mind is somewhere else. Your emotions are running wild, as your temper. It makes you vulnerable, wide open for attacks. It's only a matter of time before you hurt yourself.” Thomas immediately want to shoot the accusation down the drain, but he knew what Ivan said was the truth. He was too emotional right now.

“As you wish,” he reluctantly says. Pleased that his pupil sees reason, Ivan lets him be. Sighing Thomas removed his sword and put it away for the time being. He'd need to center himself. Taking a seat on the floor Thomas shut his eyes, breathing deeply in hope to calm himself. His temper had been an issue since he woke up – caused by the erotic dream he'd had – which had left him in foul mood.

Ivan was a master swordsman, years of constant training to craft his skills to perfection. Thomas admires the man’s dedication and self-discipline. If he would end up only as half as good as Ivan, then Thomas would be over the moon with joy. Unfortunately, as things stands now, he was far from his goal. A fact that was obvious after his spectacular failure moments ago.“I can't believe I let my emotions interfere with my training. Pathetic.” Thomas was ashamed with himself.

Noticing her present, Thomas crocked a soft smile. His mood instantly improved.

“You still trying to sneak up on me, 'Kai? How many times have you tried, and fail I might add, six, seven?”

“Eight,” came the reply. Thomas grins. “I don’t understand how you do it,” she tells him, taking a seat beside him. “No matter how careful I am you always knows I am there, it's impressive, and creepy as hell.” Thomas chuckles, amused by her colorful choice of word. It was nice to see a little edge on her. “How do you do it?” She asks him. Thomas refuses to answer her. He'd not yet told her about his enchanted hearings he'd learned about only a few weeks back. Not even master Eric knew about his newfound skill. And honestly, Thomas was rather reluctant to tell him about it. It felt good to know that he'd had a hidden trump card to use in case of need. Thomas felt bad for doubting his master, who had been kind enough to take him under his wings when there was no one else to care for him. There should be no reason for concern, and yet it did. Seeing Sean behind Eric’s back surely didn’t make things better. On the contrary, it only complicated matters further. Not to mention it increased his headaches for some reason. But despite this, despite of having had this conversation a multiple time already, and his profound gratefulness he harbored towards his master, Thomas knew he wouldn’t stop seeing the handsome – yes, Thomas admits finding the man attractive, he wasn’t blind – man whom was an obvious thorn in his master’s side. Thomas was simple unable to stay away from him. There was something about Sean that made him gravitate towards him – pulling him closer. Thomas couldn’t figure out way, but it was strong enough to having him returning for more. Is this what’s is like to be in an abusive relationship? Thomas burst out laughing at the sudden absurdity.

“What’s so funny?” Kailee asks, curiously looking his way.

“Nothing, really. I’m just being silly,” he says, not really in the mood to share his ridiculousness. Studying him for a moment, Kailee then lets the matter drop. Too keen in another topic to really care for an explanation.

“Then, care to tell me how things went down yesterday? You came home pretty late,” she adds, almost smug about it. Thomas, of course, noticed and was tempted to deny her an answer in mild revenge for her cheekiness. In the end, however, Thomas caved; knowing just how persistent the girl could be when she put her minds to it.

“It was…eventfully,” Thomas vaguely tells her. He wasn’t yet sure if whatever or not to reveal the details about Sean being a wesen. A fact Thomas himself had trouble digesting despite bearing witness to with his very own eyes. A shiver tingle across Thomas' back. He wouldn’t go so far and say he feared the Zauberbiest, but he wasn’t too keen in meeting that part or Sean anytime soon either. Still, he couldn’t deny the slight arousal he felt by the inhuman strength he felt when the man had him pinned down, complemented by the wesen undoubtedly. Its confirmed, there is something seriously wrong with me, Thomas thinks, running a hand through his hair.

“We had lunch together.” Kailee practically beamed with glee, and Thomas instantly regretting telling her.

“Oh, did you now?” Thomas rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says. “He just happened to make lunch when I invited myself in. It was the polite thing to do.” Kailee snorts. She wasn’t buying it. Something was definitely going on between them. She might only have meet Renard briefly that one time, but it was obvious the man cared a great deal for her friend. Yes, she wasn’t happy about Thomas taking risks seeing Renard behind master Eric’s back, but it was necessary. As much as she would hate to see him leave, Thomas didn’t belong here. She could tell that Thomas was starting to have doubts, not only about his place here at the castle, but regarding his own identity as well. She did what she could to help, but Kailee felt it wasn’t enough. Far from enough. 

“You’re able to detect me sneaking around in a heartbeat, and yet you fail to see what’s right in front of you.” Thomas frowns.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kailee simple shrugs her shoulders.

“You said it was eventful. In what way?” _In the way that I attacked him with a knife, disarmed, pinned to the floor and earning myself an erection in the process._ Thomas sigh. Like hell he could tell her that.

“I learn a lot about him. Did you know he'd go to France for school? Or that he was cast out from his home at young age?” Kailee shook her head.

“No, I did not. But master Eric rarely speaks of him. At first, I thought he avoid mentioning his name for your sake, to avoid upsetting you. Now, however, I’m not so sure.” Thomas frowns deepens. If Eric’s decision of not speaking about Sean out loud is for Thomas protection, then it would only have occurred _after_ the accident. Consider master Eric's drive to bring Sean to justice, surely Kailee or some of the servants would have heard his name at some occasion. Kailee’s statement suggests otherwise. Thomas rubs his eyes tiredly. Another thing that doesn’t adds up. Really, the pile is really starting to stack up.

“I didn’t bother to correct him when he called me Nick,” Thomas says out loud. He'd not think too much about it at the time, but now, looking back, the magnitude of his action is starting to sink in. “And I despised the name with passion not too long ago, too.” _Another strange thing to add to the ever-growing pile_ , Thomas thinks, wondering if, and if so when, the pile would finally collapse and crashing down upon him. He could only hope he'd survive to impact it might cause when it finally tips over.

“Why not?” Confused for a moment, Thomas didn’t immediately reply.

“Not sure,” he then carefully admits. “Which is strange. Not too long ago I was practically ready to cut his tongue out whenever he addressed me by the wrong name.” Kailee found herself hesitating with her reply. As eager as she was to help, revealing too much of her suspicions would probably do more harm than good. She'd hate to turn into another uncertainty in Thomas already unstable existence. If she wasn’t already. The thought made her heart ache. About to speak, Kailee was abruptly interrupted.

“You better leave,” he tells her. “Master Eric is on his way.” Without questioning him, she instantly stands. “I do use the back door if I were you.”

“Thank you,” she says, then quickly flees the room. Thomas is relieved to see the flare of her dress disappear around the corner seconds before their master enters from across the room. Thomas was particularly grateful to his hearings when he could use it to help keeping Kailee safe. Standing, Thomas brushes some imaginary dirt from his trousers.

“Master,” he says, greeting the man with a light bow to his head.

“Thomas,” Eric replies, frowning slightly. “Why aren’t you training?”

“Thomas needed a small break,” Ivan explains, walking up to them. “We're about to resume our training in a minute.”

“Good. I don’t pay you to teach Thomas how to sit around,” Eric tells him.

“Of course not, sir. But training to become a great swordsman is not just about the force behind the blade, or the speed in your steps and reflexes. Swordsmanship is equally about the mind. You need to be calm, grounded and focused. If the mind is cluttered and weak, then the blade will fail to protect its master.” Thomas hadn't thought it that way. To him swordsmanship was all about power, and the thrill of the hunt - no, that's not entirely correct. The enjoyment of death was not something he took pleasure in, that was all the beast.

“What brings you here, Master?" Thomas asks. He'd rather not loose Ivan because of master Eric's temper. Not now when he finally been granted his wish for a living sparring partner. And honestly, Thomas doubt he could have been asked for a better trainer. Ivan was amazing, even with his enchanted reflexes and speed due to his grimm, Ivan was far superior in the art of the sword. Then again, the man was titled to be one of the top five swordsman in the world. It was only to be expected that he'd get his ass kicked. Still, Thomas did never anticipate the gap between their skills to be so vast. It frustrated him, and Thomas would be lying if it didn't punch a rather powerful blow to his pride. However, the large differences between them also motivated him to work harder. He'd need to be better, stronger, faster. He'd need to become the best for the sake of… Thomas frowns. Whom is he fighting for? The sake of master Eric, right?Attempting to keep his mind from the topic he turns his attention back to the man before him.

"It's rather unusual for you to visit.” True, Eric avoid the training hall as much as possible. Working out is not what he'd describe an activity suited for a royal. It's too… messy. However, it is a match made by heaven for an ambitious grimm, not to mention the perfect tool to sharpening the fangs of his loyal pet.

“Jinkins just gave me these,” he says, fishing out a familiar bottle from his pocket. “He'd given it to you himself, as principle of a doctor, but since I had matter to discuss with you anyway I offered to give them to you.” Thomas took the bottle of pills, frowning. “You needed a refill, did you not?” Well, yes. He was indeed running low on the meds. “Then what's with the sour face?”

“It’s just… when I brought it up to Jinkins the other day he didn't seem to know anything about it. I'm just confused to way he'd suddenly subscribed it to me.”

“Is that so?” Thomas swore the temperature in the room dropped considerably. “Well, he is not immune to mistakes. Perhaps his memory is failing him at old age.” Thomas hums. Of course, it's plausible, but…

“I will keep an eye on him,” Eric tells him, cutting Thomas' train of thoughts to a halt. “If it’s a recurrent event, then I have to consider what action to take. I can’t have a doctor who is unfit to treat his patients.” No matter his personal relationship with the doctor, Thomas knew his master had a valuable point. “Jinkins aside, I came here with my own agenda.” Thomas took the moment to pocketing the bottle. “I have a new assignment for you.” Thomas felt his stomach drop.

“Oh.”

After all, what do one say when they have been ordered to commit murder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are my joy, please make my day a happy one <3


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